6 Words or Less

This year in groups of six:

Been through 3 vacuums so far

Kicked addiction to spider solitaire...sorta

Football stinks. Carpooling at 5:30 am

Can't dive, still plug my nose

Writing Group is obviously not helping

Wrote iphone app - a whoopee cushion

Didn't spank kids, but wanted to

Working from home - new co-workers loud

Bought PedEgg, need to use it

Writer's block caused this lame blog

Next post better, on my honor

At least you know I can count

oh, whoops

P.S. There were 11 truths in this post and 1 untruth. It's up to you to discover which one isn't true.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

My sweet spouse used to have an addiction to the Home Shopping Network. I say "used to" because he recently signed up for a 'Break Your Shopping Addiction' self-help book of the month club, for the ridiculously low price of only $19.95 per month. I think it's really helping. I mean, I used to be on a first name basis with our UPS lady (Gregorina Estella), but now she doesn't even wave when she drives by. It's like she doesn't even care about our friendship anymore.

The truth is, no boxes from HSN have arrived at our house for over a year, so hubby doesn't deserve my teasing, but there you have it. A girl has to blog about something, and today that something is Tattooage. (Pronounced tattoo-ahj). Tattooage is a form of wall decor - basically large stickers that you put on your wall to create your own special mural. I have never wanted tattooage or been tempted by the tattooage specials on HSN. Nevertheless, for Christmas 2007 I received a large box of it. Imagine my delighted surprise when I opened a box full of Tattooage monkeys, palm trees and vines. Why hadn't I thought to put that on my Christmas list in the first place?

Unfortunately, I could never decide whether to display my monkeys in the dining room or the formal living room, so I just taped the box back up and stashed it on a shelf in my son's closet. For safekeeping. While I decided where to use it.

Fast forward to Christmas 2008. Hubby is rummaging through the house, and up in my son's closet he finds a large box of unopened Tattooage. "Oh," he berates himself, "how could I have forgotten to give my sweetie her best present of all last year?" You can guess where this is going, but for suspense imagine some spine-tingling music playing in the background right now.

Christmas Day 2008 - imagine my delighted surprise when I, yet again, open a large box of Tattooage. "Do you like it?" hubby asks.

"Of course, " I say sweetly. "I also liked it last year when you gave me this same thing."

Okay, this is "Hubby", and I've had enough. She did not say anything 'sweetly' when she opened that box. She fell off the couch laughing and said, "I didn't want this last year when you gave it to me, and I still don't want it!" But did she throw it away? No! She put it right back up in the closet, secretly hoping, I'm sure, that I'll give it to her again this year.

We agree on one thing, at least. Tattooage could end up being a real money saver for our family. Thank you, HSN.

Spam It Up

I've noticed that a lot of bloggers do giveaways. I've also noticed that a lot of bloggers post photos on their blogs. Today I am killing two birds with one stone.

I have a thorn in my side, and it is this can of Spam. It has been in my "pantry" (which is really just a glorified cupboard and the bane of my existence) for, well, a long time. Happily, I still have 23 more years until it expires.

I have no idea how it came to be in my possession. I'm pretty sure I didn't buy it. All I know is, every night when I open the cupboard to figure out what to make for dinner, there it is. Staring at me, hope in its little metal eyes, thinking, "Maybe tonight is the night that she will choose me." It's starting to creep me out.

Plus, I do feel sorry for the little guy. I mean, how would you feel if someone stole your name and made it synonymous with the most vile and hated form of e-mail around? It's the same as if your mom would have named you Emo. (Not that there's anything wrong with being Emo, it's just not that great as a first name).

I have tried to think of something to do with my can of Spam, but I'm drawing a blank. There is nothing related to Spam in my Better Homes & Gardens cookbook. Of course, my new favorite place to go for recipes is my sister-i-l Connie's awesome blog (you can click through from My Blog List). This is because I once made her sweet and sour pork and all six people in my family liked it, which never happens. And while she has lots of delicious recipes on her blog, there are none (yet) for Spam, so I'm still stuck.

So finally I get to the giveaway part. Leave me a comment with your best (edible) idea on how I can use my can of Spam. The best recipe will win - you guessed it - their very own can of Spam, plus a collection of the 3+ recipes I may or may not receive. (I promise to buy you a fresh can and not send you the old one from my cupboard).

The winner will be chosen based on scores in three different categories: 1) Does the recipe involve Spam? Score 100,000,000 points if it does, zero if it does not. 2) Is the recipe edible? Score 18,000 if yes, zero if no. 3) Which recipe does the writer of this blog randomly think is the best? Score 2 if I choose yours, and 1 if I do not.

P.S. Did you like my photo?

P.P.S. Don't forget to comment with your recipe!

DST, It's All The Rage

Husbands, wives, take note: I have created a remarkable solution to all of your marital conflict. Not that you have any. I know most homes are filled with mainly peace and love, but just on the off-chance...

Statistically speaking, what causes the most discord in a marriage? Money, work, children? Wrong! It's snuggling, the age old conflict: one spouse likes to snuggle and the other does not.

This issue came to my attention when I was counseling two unnamed individuals recently. Let's just call them Indycay and Eansay for simplicity's sake. And no, I am not a professional counselor, but that doesn't seem to stop people from seeking my sage advice at no cost to themselves.

Indycay told me that she is a snuggler and Eansay is not. Neither would budge from their position. Eansay gave Indycay the nostril flare of total rejection. Indycay responded by sighing forcefully through her nose, an ancient Tibetan insult. A ferocious fight soon ensued with insults like "You non-snuggler!" and "You snuggle freak!" being flung around. It was very sad. I knew I must put an immediate stop to it.

So, I did what any good counselor would do. I powered up my laptop and Googled 'snuggling' to see what kind of advice I could find. Unfortunately, my web filter blocked me from viewing any of the content that came up. (I have a very strong filter. It also blocks me from Ebay and Amazon, but I believe my husband may have manually added those to the block list. That's a fight for another day).

Since I could get no help from the internet, I decided to use good old-fashioned brain power to come up with a solution, and that is just what I did. My solution was so good that I trademarked it immediately. Sure, that caused a little delay in my counseling with Indycay and Eansay, but the royalties will be worth it. My solution is called DST (imagine a tiny TM after that, because I can't figure out how to insert those little characters). DST stands for Designated Snuggle Time. It means that you designate ten minutes before bed to snuggle, and then you are free to turn your back and start snoring with no recriminations. Genius!

Indycay and Eansay have been using DST for two days now, and I've noticed a marked improvement in their relationship. For example, Indycay has stopped posting photos of Eansay popping his zits on YouTube, and Eansay has begun calling Indycay by her real name instead of 'Spawn of the Devil'. I feel pretty good about that.

(With my apologies to all the REAL counselors out there. Ummm, and Indycay and Eansay)