Sunday, August 30, 2009

It's All About Pop-U-Lar

More signs that I am not popular:

1. The t-shirt my mom got me in Nashville that says "Not Popular"

2. Even the missionaries and Jehovah's Witnesses don't knock on my door.

3. My 4-year-old daughter has as many blog followers as I do.

4. The ladies I work with at church keep giving me fake addresses so they can have meetings without me.

5. I've started to enjoy a certain companionable silence with the ants that are out by my pool.

6. I left my diary sitting out in the open and nobody wanted to read it.

7. Nobody in this whole wide world has named a baby after me. Hizzigrelda happens to be a wonderful name, and really, it could work for a boy or a girl, so there's no excuse.

8. I played hide and seek with my kids Saturday morning and nobody came to find me until they got hungry for dinner.

9. I feel left out when my foot falls asleep without the rest of me.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

World Domination

If you will kindly take a moment to scroll down to the bottom of this page and look at my ClusterMap on the left hand side, you will get a lot more out of this post.

Having scrolled down as directed, I'm sure you can see that I have many friends, indicated by the numerous red dots on my ClusterMap. While I love my American friends, I have been particularly delighted to see that I have also acquired friends in Australia, Saudi Arabia, Russia and England. And if you think I had to Google a world map to identify those countries marked by my red dots, you're wrong. I used Yahoo. So, to my new international friends I say: G'day, marhaba, привет, and hello. And I also say, this post is taking a lot longer to write than usual, since I have to keep looking things up.

I'm guessing you're not all that surprised that word of my dry wit and robust writing style has leaked across the oceans, but we musn't ignore that possiblity that my international friends stumbled upon my blog by accident and have no intention of ever coming back.

Yeah, right! That was just a joke. Of course it was my writing, duh!

So, dear international friends, declare yourselves and your intentions. Are you fair weather friends who only visit once, or will you be around through thick and thin, which is an American idiom meaning through foul weather or fair, which is another idiom meaning never, ever leave me...I am desperate for your friendship. I hereby swear that if you continue your faithful readership I will include more proper language in future posts, dear English friend. I will dress in my most modest attire when writing, in deference to my esteemed colleague from Saudi Arabia. I will immediately throw some shrimp on the barby for my Aussie mate. And finally, I will knit a pair of extra warm mittens to send to my Russian compatriot (just as soon as I learn to knit and update the prescription on my glasses so I can see to do so. Cataracts.)

To my 5 regular readers from Arizona (all of whom are related to me, btw): this is a great service opportunity for you. All you have to do is write a rough draft of a nice comment for me, then look online to translate your comment into another language, then post it to make me think that I am, in fact, on my way to world blogging domination, as well as perhaps the world's longest run-on sentence.

Monday, August 17, 2009

My Memory Faileth Me...

...which is not surprising, since my "About Me" paragraph reveals that I am 98 years old. This is the story I told at a recent gathering with my extended family:

"Did you guys know that when we lived out in the boonies I found a rattlesnake curled up outside the front door one morning? The kids were scared to death, and so was I, but I had to do something, so I got a shovel and whacked it's head right off..."

At this point in the story Hubby peers in my direction with a quizzical look on his face. "Did you just say that you killed that rattlesnake?"

"Yeah, don't you remember it?"

"I remember it alright. I remember it because I killed it."

I mulled that one over for a minute, until I realized that he was right. It was all coming back to me now - how I cowered inside with the kids while Hubby killed the snake.

How weird. I totally thought it was me.

I wonder what other fiction my mind has made up.

With that in mind, I've decided to forgive the following unfortunate incidents, just in case they never really happened:

1. The day Hubby taped over the birth of our son with an episode of Ellen
2. All the times my so-called "friends" FORCED me onto roller coasters, even though they know I am afraid of heights. They always convince me it will be fun, but it never is.
3. The first time my oldest child said, "Mom, don't do that in public"
4. The day my brother-in-law played his wedding video at a family gathering and kept rewinding to the scene where I attempt the booty shake, giving everyone a jolly laugh at my expense.
5. The time that Deal or No Deal passed on me as a contestant even though I left my 4-year-old daughter in the hospital in order to keep a video-conference-call appointment with them. Hey, I'm not proud of it, it's just something that happened.
6. The doctor who made me wear a neck brace to school for three days (in junior high!) before he called my parents and said, never mind, I didn't need it after all.

It's going to be hard to think of what to do with all the time I have on my hands now that I'm not nursing all these grudges anymore. I guess I could always make up some new memories.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Debunking a Myth

All my life I've been told to keep a notebook by my bed so I can write down all the great ideas that come to me at night. Apparently, 98.3% of all genius inventions, best-selling novels and delicious new recipes come to people in the dead of night, when their subconscious is busy being way smarter and more creative than their conscious self ever could.

I've been keeping a night notebook for several years now, maybe a few months, or like a week, and I think I have some real winners so far:

Idea #1: Create a cell phone application that allows calorie conscious folks to weigh their meat before they eat it to make sure it's the appropriate 3 oz. I realize that this involves putting raw meat on the face of your cell phone, but it's worth the risk. Besides, who has room on their kitchen counter for those pesky little scales?

Idea #2: Illegible

Idea #3: Bring back the Swatch watch. I realize kids these days don't wear watches anymore, what with the cell phones and all, but it's time for a comeback. Besides, I'm still bitter that I never had one when I was a teenager, so this is my chance to work through those emotions.

Idea #4: Become a ghost hunter, helping people rid their houses of spooky apparitions. I'm pretty sure this one came to me on a Friday night after a particularly absorbing episode of Ghost Whisperer. Of course, I used to pee my pants just playing hide-n-seek, but I'm pretty sure I've outgrown that since it last happened. I mean, that was way back in December.

Idea #5: Make and sell my parents' homemade diaper rash cream. I would tell you what it is, but the recipe is top secret and we may file for a patent. Not too many people can say they're in the business of healing butts, so this idea is really at the top of my list. Actually, my sister thought of this idea, but the memory of her telling me has become so fuzzy that it's as if I dreamt it, so I assume I own the rights to the plan now.

There are quite a few more ideas in my notebook, each one as compelling as those listed above. I guess I'm just wondering, though - if my subconscious really is smarter and more creative than my conscious self, do I really have anything else to look forward to in my life?

I think I'll put an end to it all by mixing up a lethal combination of Pop Rocks and soda.