A rare and wondrous thing

I have these tiny, fly-away hairs that grow near my ears. (No, not in my ears, thank you very much.) Like sideburns on men, only...well...not. At this point, they're just long enough to make it possible for me to tuck them behind my ears, but not long enough so they'll stay in place without the aid of a bobby pin.  Bobby pins don't work in my hair - they slip and slide around - so that option is out. These bothersome things are also not long enough to stay in place when I put my hair back into a ponytail, so they stick out - like ridiculous, frizzy wings - on the side of my head. I hate them. I've had this struggle my entire life so you'd think, by now, I'd either be used to it, or have given up caring; neither of which is the case. I've tried cutting them - and when I kept my hair short this was mostly OK - but that doesn't really work when my hair is long because short sideburns with long hair just looks...dumb.

Today, I'm having a decent hair day.  A rare occurrence.  But there are still these things which make a perfect hair day impossible.

Sigh.

The struggle is real.

TTFN
JMS

PS: A quick reminder: Since I don't post this nonsense real time, "Today" could mean several days ago.  "The other day" could be last year.  Time is sort of wibbly wobbly here.  These are not the droids you are looking for.  Oh...whoops.  I'm mixing my movies and TV shows up again.  

My pants are wet...and other nonsense

There once was a girl from Nantucket...

Okay, Connecticut.  Close enough, right?

***

Besides kids, coffee, and cats, do you know what my favorite thing is?  You don't?  Good, because neither do I.  Probably music.  Or food.  Yeah, food is always good.  But music is food for the soul, and that's equally as important.

***

The parking lot behind the building where I work is not large enough to accommodate everyone who works in the building.  Also, folks who work in other buildings park there, too, because they'd rather do that than park any further away.  What that means is, I have to park quite a ways from the building.  On most days, it's not an issue.  I don't mind walking.  But this morning, not only did I have a bunch of stuff to bring into the building for our annual holiday party, but it was pouring rain.  I was loaded down!  So now, my pants are wet.  My boots are wet.  My socks are wet because my boots apparently leak.  And, as an observation and a public safety message, it is difficult, not to mention un-fun (yes, it is a word), to try to juggle both an umbrella, and a box containing a carefully prepared red berry fruit salad, without fumbling anything.

***

Contrary to belief, I am not a horrible, nagging hag.  I do not live to annoy you.  Not everything which comes out of my mouth is intended to be snippy.  I apologize if my normal voice offends you, but sometimes it's hard to maintain this sweet personality everyone knows and loves.  (Say nothing further and I might allow you to keep your appendages.  "Fezzik, tear his arms off!")  Lots of folks have said how nice I am (which is wonderful and makes my heart soar) and my automatic, and honest, response is, "Well then I guess you don't know me very well!"

***

I've always wondered...

Why can't people shut doors, or turn off lights, or not pee on the toilet seat?

Why didn't God gift me with more musical talent?

Why am I not smarter?  Or, rather, why do things which seem so simple for some people confuse the heck outta me?

Why can't I convince my kids that clean rooms are a good thing?

***

Just some random ramblings on a rainy Tuesday.

TTFN
JMS

Car Conversations

Boy-child: Mom, what do you want to read to me when we get home?

Me: The Riot Act

Boy-child: What's that?

Me: You'll see!

MWAHAHAHA!!!

TTFN
JMS

Yup...I know the feeling

http://www.laughtard.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/I-cant-adult-today.jpg

Fuzzy Teeth

About 2:30 PM, just about every day whilst at my humble place of employment, the cravings begin.  Well, I’m not sure the word “cravings” is exactly the right way to describe it, but let’s just roll with it, shall we? 

Anyway, the first nearly overwhelming craving is for a toothbrush and toothpaste.  It doesn’t matter what foods or beverages I have taken in during the course of the early part of the day, but by 2:30 PM my teeth feel fuzzy and a good brushing is about all that’s stopping me from taking another step or two toward insanity.

The second craving is for another cup of coffee.  You heard me.  It’s not like I haven’t already had two or three cups in the morning – but after about 10:00 AM I tend to slack off in the Coffee Department as things have usually picked up in the Busy Department.  Both departments are necessary, yet they’re very far removed from one another and typically, the employees (liquid and paper) don’t get along well together.  (You like that analogy?)  But by 2:30 PM the desire for another cup is nearly overwhelming.

The thing is, though both cravings are nearly impossible to ignore, coffee is always going to win.

Eeew, Jen!  That’s gross!  Just brush your teeth, for goodness sake!

No!  Hear me out, will ya?

Fine.  This had better be good.

The reason coffee is always going to win is, well…have you ever tasted coffee, even really super amazingly awesome coffee, after having just brushed your teeth?  It’s terrible!  I’m a coffee purist.  No milk.  No sugar.  Just the good old strong black stuff.  But even the good old strong black stuff tastes awful after a good tooth brushing.  It’s akin to drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth.  ICK.

OK.  I have to admit it…that’s a pretty good reason.  But still, fuzzy teeth?

               Yeah – I know.  Fuzzy teeth are gross.  But do you want to hear my solution?

Sigh.  Whatever.  I know you’re going to tell me anyway.

I brush my teeth after drinking my coffee.  It’s still kinda gross, but not as awful as it would be if I’d brushed beforehand.

See?  I’m clever like that!

At least I’m not sitting at work at two or three o’clock in the afternoon craving chocolate cake. 

Oooh!  Chocolate cake!

I must go now.

TTFN

JMS

Snowmageddon 2015

Quick!  Run to the store!  There’s gonna be a snowflake!  Yeah, yeah…that’s probably a little harsh, but having grown up in the North, a couple of inches of snow didn't mean utter and complete panic.  Sigh.  That’s probably a little harsh, too.  I live in the South now, and they’re really not panicking, I suppose, but it’s a near thing.  As soon as someone even mentions the word snow (or it’s bigger, badder Evil Twin: Ice) there’s a run on the nearest grocery or convenience store for the basics: bread, milk, eggs and toilet paper.

I remember once, many moons ago, just after I had moved from North down to the Washington, DC area, we got nearly three feet of snow.  The Federal Government shut down.  I recall sitting in my street-view bedroom, looking down on the scene below, and watching people try to drive like it was an ordinary day.  I imagine they were quite puzzled when their normally well-behaved vehicles skidded sideways down the street.  Huh.  How about that?  But if the DC area was bad, it’s worse here.  (I’m sorry – I’m just making a blanket generalization.  Please don’t chastise me…yet.) 

As a kid, I (and the rest of my peers) lived for snow days.  But, being from North the Snow Day was the Stuff of Legend.  (It happened once.  People still talk about it.)  Now, as an adult with children, I look at snow days in a completely different way.

The Preemptive Strike

The Preemptive Strike occurs when the just the threat of inclement weather (take your pick from a myriad of options) is enough to close down whole school systems.  I understand that those in charge of making such decisions are merely doing so for the safety and security of the children who attend said systems.  As a parent, I appreciate knowing as far in advance as possible.  Truly, there’s not much worse than a phone call at 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning to let us know that school is cancelled for the day.  Actually, worse would be the call that happens just about the time your kids would normally get up for the day and therefore negating any possibility of them going back to bed for an hour or two allowing you a brief respite.  Anyway, I like the Preemptive Strike.  Mostly.  What I don’t like is when the decision makers call the game (if you will) and then absolutely nothing happens, weather wise.  That’s just annoying.

The Early Out

The Early Out occurs when kids are already at school, but the powers that be decide the impending weather situation is enough to warrant sending everyone home early.  Again, I understand that those in charge are making such decisions for the safety and security of the children and I am absolutely in favor of that.  But, a couple of years ago they let school out early and there was a mad rush to pick up kids, causing a worse problem with cars and traffic than the weather would have.  In response to that situation, most schools around here, when faced with an Early Out, stagger the releases of kids.  First this school, then that school.  First these grades, then those grades.  It seems to help and, though parents really have to pay attention to the times their children are being released, the staggered pick-ups seem to work.

But, regardless of the weather situation, kids are still up to their old tricks.  Mine do The Snow Dance, which involves hands waved in the air and little kicks and wiggles that is, quite simply, hysterical to witness.  They wear their pajamas inside out and backwards and flush ice cubes down the toilet.  They are glued to the weather channel or the weather on the local news in an amusing, innocent way.  Boy-child even loaded a weather app on his tablet (a tablet which, btw, he saved for and purchased himself) and has been our very own, personal Weather Man for the last two days.  And if, by some miracle, a snow day does occur (as it did this morning), they then believe that all their tricks and nonsense worked because – POOF! – no school.

Snow days, while somewhat miracle-like for the children, admittedly test the sanity of the parents.  It’s a stressor for those who have to take time off work to look after their kiddos.  Some parents may even lose business when snow days occur.  Some parents struggle to find stuff that’s interesting for their children to do all day.  That doesn’t mean that snow days don’t affect me, either; they totally do.  But Hubby gets the short end of the kid stick.  Hubby is the best Stay at home Dad in the whole wide universe.  I’m totally lucky in that regard, and so are my kiddos.

Anyway, here’s hoping your pantry is stocked, your family is home safe and sound, and you have lots of fun indoor activities to do.  Snowmageddon 2015 is upon us!.

TTFN

JMS

Writing in the present, reading about the past

For those of you who don’t know, I tend write these posts a day or two ahead of time.  I love the schedule option afforded to me by Blogger.  For example, as I write this, it is Thursday evening, the twelfth of February, 2015.  I am currently sitting in bed feeling quite pleased with myself at having made a pair of navy blue hand/wrist/arm warmers out of a very well-loved but much too small pair of girl-child’s old tights.  I’m crafty like that.  I just grabbed the pair of super-sharp scissors out of my bedside table drawer and after 6 snips – TA DA! – comfy warm things I can wear while I type.  My fingers are still kinda cold, but I’m toasty warm up to my elbows!  Go me.

Anyway, I just spent the evening with girl-child.  She started out kinda grumpy but pretty soon managed to dig down deep and find her happy.  We took a trip to the Greens of Wal and purchased some super-groovy Valentine’s Day cards for her classmates.  Then, at home, she spent a very happy 30-40 minutes filling out the cards and making a special one for her teacher.  There was even humming involved.  Humming usually means relaxed and content girl-child.  Humming is a good sign.  You don't want to interrupt the humming girl-child or relaxed and content may be in jeopardy.

After that, she and I played a few rounds of 4 Pics 1 Word.  She’s super good at that game and tends to be a lot faster than I am.  Then boy-child came home with Hubby and, though he came and joined us for a few minutes, he sorta broke the moment.  Not that I wasn’t happy to see him – he’s a goober and I adore him – but girl-child and I were doing fine without him and boy-child is nothing if not competitive.  I’m sure you can see the problem.  There began the pushy-shovey-my-turns and I finally had to call the game and kick them both outta the room.  Sheesh!

It took absolutely ages to get everyone in jammies with teeth brushed and tucked in bed with kisses and hugs and dream-lites making blue star patterns on ceilings.  But now that young'uns are settled and I am able to settle a little bit, too – I realize that I am bone tired and my brain is mush.  I am more scattered than usual.  (Probably the reason for this very poorly written, all over the place post.  Sorry.)  

I am very much looking forward to tomorrow night, which is actually Friday, because remember, you're probably reading this on Saturday so tomorrow night as I type is actually last night when you’ll be reading this.

Confused yet?  So am I.

I think I need to go to bed.

TTFN

JMS

Stupid stuff you learn from your parents

When I was a kid my dad said all kinds of goofball stuff that I, as an adult, now say.  And yes, people look at me in exactly the same way we kids used to look at my dad when he said them.  You know that look.  The one that says, “I wonder which planet you’re from?”

Here are a few examples:

·         Woolsey Boat Paint

·         Good Gravy, Grandma!

·         Battle Boat/Battle Dog/Battle Baby

Bear with me, explanations to come.

Woolsey Boat Paint (yes, it's really a thing) meant “We’ll see,” in Dad-Speak.

“Good Gravy, Grandma!” was not a way to praise to his grandmother about her gravy-making par-excellence; it meant, essentially, “Good Grief, Charlie Brown!”

Battle Boat/Battle Dog/Battle Baby – well, that takes quite a bit more explaining, however the short version is that my dad went through a He-Man, Masters of the Universe phase about the same time my brother and I did, so because one of the characters on the show was Battle Cat, everything became a Battle-something.  (I’m dating myself, here.  There are going to be many of my dear readers who remember this awesome, animated, good vs. evil television show.  Those who don't remember, please feel free to Google it for a full description.  Suffice it to say, my brother and I adored the show and had all the accoutrement required to enjoy hours of self-entertaining play.) So, the 12-foot aluminum row boat became Battle Boat (yes, officially).  Our Shetland Sheepdog, Trevor, became Battle Dog.  And my little sister became Battle Baby.

No – I am not joking.

(My father also had a fondness for antique oil lamps, which I confess, I also share.  File that under Little-Known Jen Fact.)

So, when I say something off-the-wall, please know that I come by my strangeness honestly.  And, since I’m being honest, I like my Weird.  I embrace it.  Please deal with it as you are able.

That is all.

TTFN
JMS

Things that make you go EEEW!

We all have our things – things which might disturb us on a much, much deeper level than the obvious ick factor of said thing.  For example, for me, the word Moist is a serious EEEW!  Yes, we all know what the word means (well…I hope you know what it means) but aside from explaining the general dampness factor…well, actually, that’s kind of EEEW, too.  ((shudder))  OK – moving on.

Then there’s the whole getting-your-mouth-as-close-to-the-water-fountain-spout-as-possible-while-not-actually-touching-it thing.  There are folks who really must believe, in the deepest recesses of their minds, that the closer their mouths are to the spout, the fresher (maybe colder?) the water they’re drinking will be.  Not to mention the germy-er.   I mean, come on!  Have you ever really LOOKED at a water fountain spout while you’re drinking from it?  They’re gross!  Even if they’re cleaned regularly, there’s always some kind of gooey residue around the spigot.  It’s brown, or pink, or sometimes even greenish and I’m sorry, but there’s NO WAY you’re getting me close to that thing.  EEEW!

And ladies, let’s not forget the Fuzzy Bath.  (Guys – feel free to check out for a minute.  You may rejoin the conversation in the next paragraph.)  The Fuzzy Bath happens when a woman gets it into her head that a hot bath, maybe a book, a glass of wine (hm…) and possibly a candle or two is a wonderful idea, and possibly even necessary for survival or sanity.  (We’ve all been there.)  After a good soak, one thinks, Hm…I suppose I should shave my legs.  So, razor and soap (or gel shaving cream, if you prefer) in hand one begins the deforestation process.  After a while, you realize you’re sitting in a soupy miasma of soap or shaving cream residue, plus leg fur.  I’m sorry – I cannot continue.  A shower is then required to not only clean oneself, but also clean out the tub.

There’s also:

·         The Tub-Drain Fur-Ball

·         Vomit (of any kind, human or animal)

·         Breast-fed baby poop (sorry, truth)

·         Poop, in general.  Especially sidewalk poop.  Especially stepped-in sidewalk poop.

·         The Unknown Food Origin (UFO) from the Tupperware container in the fridge that you’re pretty sure was, at one point, solid, yet is now a liquid.  This requires simply throwing out the Tupperware container as it is no longer salvageable. 

·         Snot.  Especially wall-snot.  This occurs when young children dig for gold and then wipe on the nearest vertical surface.  It’s shiny.  Like dried egg yolk or high-gloss paint.

For my son, he says that the word Poop is his EEEW!  He also tacked on his extreme dislike for wet, squishy socks.  My daughter and husband both voted for vomit being their EEEW!  Oh - the list could go on and on.  And now that you're thoroughly grossed out...

TTFN
JMS

What will they think of next?

Someone really needs to explain this to me. Scented Duck Tape? Really? I know I cannot be the only one wondering about this. What would someone use scented Duck Tape for, anyway? In my humble opinion Duct Tape is a gray/silver color and is used to fix things that are moving when they shouldn't. Conversely, WD40 is used to make things move that aren't moving. See? That's simple logic. Therefore, (and again, in my humble opinion,) scented Duct Tape is useless.

Plus, can you imagine getting caught sniffing the bubble gum scented Duct Tape you're using to hold your car together? Seriously. What would you say? That's gotta be all kinds of embarrassing.

TTFN

JMS

Patience vs. Will Power vs. Caffiene

• For all those times when all you want to do is stay snuggled, safe and warm, in your bed and ignore your alarm clock because it’s cold or rainy outside and really, what’s your motivation?  
• For all the times you say “no” to your alarm clock.  Or the dog who has to go outside to pee.  Or to your own bladder, for that matter (ha!  How clever am I?)  Or the child who got up at the BCOD.
• For all those times you say to yourself just five more minutes and then those five minutes turn into ten, then twenty and now, suddenly, you’re going to be late. 
• For all those times that you think I really don’t need a shower (yes, you really do, I promise) so you use the time you would have taken up by showering to catch a few more minutes of shut-eye. 
• For all those times when you’re allergy-ridden and therefore you resort to a full dose of medication like Benadryl or Zyrtec and then the next morning (and possibly well into the next afternoon) you are decidedly zombie-like.
• For all those times when you’re sitting at your desk trying desperately to focus on the task at hand but your chin somehow keeps winding up in your hand and you continually find your head inching closer and closer to a full face-plant on the keyboard.  (Just imagine the pretty, lettered impressions on your cheek.)
• For all those times when it takes everything in your power not to shove your chair back, kick your feet up on the nearest elevated surface, lean as far back as your chair will allow and just close your eyes for two minutes all the while knowing if that actually happens there will be a full-on Drool & Snore Fest.

TTFN
JMS

The moment is broken

That moment when your kids have done something not so awesome and they need to be scolded but not so bad that they deserve grounding or time in their room so you give them your most withering mom look and they’re looking back at you like whatever mom I’ve so got your number and you keep glaring at them thinking that if you keep it up they’ll finally learn the silent but necessary lesson you’re trying so desperately to teach and then they grin at you or roll their eyes at you and you try to school your features so you don’t betray this serious lesson by smiling but eventually you’re scrunching up your face and bursting out with laughter because those frustrating kids of yours are kind of cute and you love them you just can’t stand it anymore and the moment is broken.

 

Or when you’re in bed at night totally engrossed in a book and Hubby comes in and stands at the bottom of the bed and you can see him just beyond the top of your book so you know he’s there but you’re not really paying attention and then he hikes his pajama bottoms up to his armpits and stands there waiting for you to realize that he’s being a goofball trying to draw you away from your book and you know exactly what he’s doing but you try to ignore him except you keep reading the same sentence over and over again and finally you look up thinking you’ll be able to keep a straight face but you come eye to eye with the man you married who has his pajama bottoms pulled up to his armpits and he grins and you burst out laughing because you just can’t stand it anymore and the moment is broken.

 

I know you know what I’m talking about.  

TTFN

JMS

I see the light!

In a push to further automate our lives, we as a people – the smart ones – have installed automatic light switches with sensors.  In theory, they are supposed to turn lights on when you enter a room by sensing your movement and, after a period of no motion, turn the lights off.  Efficient.  Saves energy.  An all-around good idea, yes?  Yes.  That is, until the sensor does not see, or does not respond, when one walks into a room, leaving one in the dark.

For example, the light sensor in the break room at my office is wonky.  Every morning I go in there with the empty coffee pot to rinse out and refill, and my coffee cup to wash.  I push open the break room door and…nothing.  I can stand in what should be perfect seeing range of the light sensor and dance around like a fool holding my empty coffee pot and my needing-to-be-cleaned mug hoping no one is watching and…still nothing.  Waving my arms doesn’t work either, I’ve tried it.  Walking in front of the light pouring out of the vending machine thinking that my shadow may trick the sensor into turning on the light?  Nope.  (Sigh)  Never mind.

So, I efficiently take care of business in the mostly-dark room.  Upon finishing the rinsing and the washing and the refilling, I turn around to leave the room, take one step in the direction of the door and TA DA! The lights come on.

Every.  Blessed.  Morning.

And while we’re on the subject of coffee, might I say that my seven year old daughter, who I love with all my heart, is a prime candidate for coffee first thing in the morning?  That’s not to say I plan to start giving her coffee at this tender age, but boy – I sure hope she turns out to be a coffee-drinker.  In fact, it would be a service to all mankind if someone were to wake her up with a fresh cup of coffee in-hand.  She shouldn’t be allowed to set her feet on the floor without having consumed at least one cup of the strongest coffee available.  Life with my beautiful, wonderful, sweet girl would return and be much more tolerable.  This would not be considered spoiling her, it would be considered self-preservation.  My self.

TTFN
JMS

Oh, for the love of music!

Like lots of you fine folks out there, I use Pandora for streaming music.  I'm going to say this right up front - I love Pandora!  And further, I am totally stuck on "Depeche Mode Radio" on Pandora.  (Some of you already know this because I haven't shut up about it lately.)

Fair warning, those of you who follow (current or past) that kind of music may vehemently disagree with me here.  I was thinking about something, though. (Who am I kidding?  I'm always thinking about something.)   Depeche Mode, New Order, Erasure, Yazoo (Yaz) - though different, are all one in my head.  Same kind of stuff, I suppose; I love them all.  While I'm at it, I think Billy Joel, Elton John and Rod Stewart are all one in my head.  Where there is one, there are all.  Does that make sense?

Oh! And The Cure! Orchestral Manoeuvres in The Dark!  The Psychedelic Furs!  Pet Shop Boys!  Echo and the Bunnymen!  And...uh...OK - I think you've had enough.  I guess I never realized that I love this stuff as much as I do.

I can't wait to educate my children in all of this this awesomeness!

TTFN
JMS

Hm... *That's* different!

Guess what I did today?  I mean, besides laundry and grocery shopping and going to the doctor and playing Mom Taxi?

I jumped on a trampoline!

For the first time in - I have no idea how long it's been - I jumped on a trampoline.  For fun!  It was awesome.

My knees are protesting and I'm still not sure my neck and head will ever forgive me, but it was a blast.  And my son got to see his mom grinning like a fool.

He said, "Mom!  You look younger when you're doing that!"

TTFN
JMS

Humor for the "Unbrained"

I have a coffee mug, given to me by a co-worker.  It’s black and has white lettering which says: “I’m trying to be awesome today, but I’m exhausted from being so freakin’ awesome yesterday.”  I love this mug.  It says so much about me, especially the Morning Me, when I am decaffeinated.  Or, as another co-worker so eloquently put it, “Unbrained.”  Being unbrained is no fun.  And no, we’re not talkin’ zombies, here.

 

Being told that I rock is another thing entirely.  My response to being told today that I rocked was, “Yes.  I occasionally do!  Usually to AC/DC or Metallica.  Just sayin’.”  I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: I think I’m hysterical.  On this particular occasion, the party to whom I was speaking took it exactly as it was meant; lighthearted banter.  (We also discovered a mutual appreciation for liverwurst, but that’s another story.)  

 

I began thinking about the strange and wonderful conversations I’ve had that amuse me as much as they amuse others.  It amuses me (there’s that word again) that there are people in this world who just don’t appreciate my particular brand of humor/sarcasm/wit/what-have-you.  (And please, don’t give me the, “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” comment.  That belongs to those who have no sense of humor.  Be gone with you!)  In fact, I’ve even gone back later to re-read stuff I’ve written and have laughed at myself.  One must laugh at oneself.  Often.  Otherwise, there’s something wrong.

 

Um…Jen?  Do you have a point?

 

Nope.  Not really.  I warned you that my blog was random.  I like to write the way that I think – so if you think reading this is bad, with me jumping all over the place from one topic to the next, try being in my head.  I shall quote my beloved Anne of Green Gables: “You ought to give me some credit.  You cannot imagine all the things I want to say and don’t.”

 

TTFN
JMS

Minecraft is bad for the memory

My children are getting along.  Voluntarily spending time with each other.  I'm not entirely sure what to do right now, actually.  Yeah, yeah - enjoy it while it lasts.  I know.  Thanks - with all the sarcasm I can muster.

Today, I got distracted from a purpose by Minecraft.  (I know there will be a small contingent of you who do not know what Minecraft is, so I have provided a link for your edification and reading pleasure.) There I was, headed to the storage room, on a mission, when I run into four or five guys standing in the hallway discussing Minecraft.  They asked for my two cents (or, rather, I gave it to them...you know me) and then when I continued on my purposeful journey to aforementioned storage room I had totally forgotten why I went there in the first place.  For the life of me, I couldn't remember.  I still don't remember.  Not that it really matters, though, I suppose.  Although it makes me wonder what else I'm forgetting.

I guess I'm getting old.  It goes along with the hot-flashes.  (Yes, I did just say that out loud.  Get over it.)

And that, my beloved friends and readers, is about all I can muster today.

TTFN
JMS

And speaking of...

Many, many years ago, this blog used to be called Random Ramblings.  There are those of you out there who will remember this little historical tidbit.  When I started writing for Tananda.com, and when Tananda and I started brainstorming what my alter-virtual-personality would be called, we agreed upon Tangent…because I frequently go off on one.

Last night, my son and I were talking about online safety (stuff he should be aware of now that he is in middle school and owns a tablet) and I said something about my blog.  “What’s a blog, mom?”

In typical Jen fashion, I pulled my laptop over, opened it up and went directly to my blog for visual aid purposes.  I did not pass go.  I did not collect $200.00.

“Mom?  Is your blog safe for me to read?”

“Mostly.  There are a few things in here I’d rather you didn’t read yet.  I write this thing for a grown up audience, not with kiddos in mind.”

“Mom?  Is there anything I can read on here?  Like, now?”

So, I spent a little bit of time researching a old posts, doing a quick mental check of content, and then proceeded to read a couple of them aloud to him.  He responded appropriately in all the places that require laughs, chuckles, guffaws, snickers, and even an occasional snort.  I’m not really trying to be funny, but apparently I am - at least on occasion.  

“Mom?  Why is your blog called …Off on a Tangent?”

“Well, do you know what a tangent is?”  (Considering quickly that there is also an explanation that is math-related and deciding not to go there, since math is most definitely not my strong point.)

“Uh…no.”

“So, you know how sometimes someone might be talking about one thing and then all of the sudden they’re talking about something else completely different?  And maybe you’re not quite sure how they got from one thing to another?  That’s called going off on a tangent.  Think of it like a river.  You’ve got the main, big river – which is your main, big thought – and then suddenly you branch off into another, smaller river – a tributary – which is a tangent.  Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yep.  Can we read more?”

“Nope.  It’s bedtime.”

Followed by lots of complaining and shuffling of feet.

I bring all of this to your attention as preface to my actual reason for this post: Eggs.  

What?

Yep.  Eggs.

So, you know how you like your eggs.  And I know how I like my eggs.  And my sister and I like our eggs the same way when we’re feeling somewhat blue and need comfort food.  And Joe Blow down the street likes his eggs scrambled…barely.

I like my eggs past soft-boiled, but not quite hard-boiled, peeled, mashed into oblivion and mixed with butter, salt and crumbled up Triscuit crackers.

I like my eggs scrambled, with ketchup.

I like my eggs fried, over-hard, yolks broken – like shoe leather.

I like my eggs hard-boiled.  With salt.

I like my eggs mixed with yummy stuff to create other yummy stuff like meatloaf, and cake!  (Oooh!  Cake.  Is there chocolate?  Oooh!  Chocolate.  Oh!  Wait.  See what I mean about tangents?)

I don’t like my eggs poached.

I don’t like my eggs runny.  Eeew.  (Unless there’s an abundance of toast, and then I can dip or sop.)

But really – eggs are just about the best thing ever.  Unless you have bacon, in which case you are my new BFF (…sorry, Kit!) because bacon is, in fact, the World’s most perfect food.  Extra crispy, please?

TTFN
JMS

Here I am!! Me! Me! Pick me!

Oh my gosh! What have I done?

I have left Facebook behind. Or, rather, I am planning to. My goal is to deactivate my account by this Friday.

If you're here, reading this post, you most likely would like to continue to "follow" me in some virtual form or fashion, and for that, I am more grateful than you know.

This blog has gone through a lot with me, and has seen several iterations of itself come and go. There's a lot here. There's a lot of me here, in all my various forms.  I'll say up front that I make no apologies. But feel free to explore; you may find something you like.

I know it's been a long while since I've posted anything here... Too long, really. But my plan is to update this more often, with some of the same nonsense you may have seen me post on Facebook, along with...well...whatever comes to mind.

So welcome, or, welcome back. Whatever the case, I hope you enjoy this virtual me, too!

TTFN

JMS

PS: you may see me called Tangent here, too. I fairly often refer to myself in different ways, but the blog is called Off on a Tangent (for very good reason) so whether Tangent, Jen, JMS...I'm still me.