Pop Rocks and Soda

As a kid, before this glorious invention of the Internet, where I can literally tap a microphone button and ask a question that I have been pondering (recent queries include "do slugs eat their dead?" and "what is sweetbread?"), before all this glorious knowledge that is at my fingertips just for the asking, things that weren't true couldn't be proven so without perilous risk to life and limb.

Take Pop Rocks and soda: this is a long held belief that eating the candy Pop Rocks and drinking a carbonated beverage at the same time would result in your insides exploding.  It killed that kid that only likes Life cereal.

I know it's not true.  I know Mikey is alive and well and probably still loving Life cereal because, truthfully, it is the best cereal ever.  

But am I willing to put this knowledge to the test?

No way.

Knowing something isn't going to kill you, a truth that goes against years of believing otherwise, isn't easily swallowed.

Besides, just my luck I would get sick on it and be the one person in the world that can't ingest that much carbonation!  Better play it safe, and avoid that experiment.

While I'm at it, I'll also skip Mentos and soda.  

Long Term Knowing

Is blogging like being in a long term relationship?  The kind where you've been together for so long, you know every story before it's finished in the telling and you've heard it at least 10 times before.  You know the thoughts and opinions on things encountered on a daily bases because you've heard those same thoughts and opinions expressed all the time.  You've got nothing new to share.

I thought of that as I walked around in squeaky shoes.  I should blog about that, I thought, how much I absolutely hate squeaky shoes.  Oh, wait.  I wrote about that already.  Or  maybe I should write about getting a hole in my tights.  But I did that here and here and here too.  I could write about being cranky or how I turned that around to realize how thankful I am.  I could write about my kids or my dogs or  my husband or my sisters or my mom.

But I've done all that.  I've written all about all the things I think about, sometimes more than once.

So I guess my dear readers better strap in and get ready for some posts that they will know the ending to before I type the last word!  I'm feeling that old urge to write, and as I find my way, I might just repeat some.

It's The Last Time

I recently read this article and I felt its truth all the way to my soul.  As my son grew up, he stopped trick or treating, choosing to stay home and hand out candy, but my daughter has been the opposite.  She has embraced every Halloween as joyfully as she did when she was a toddler.

Every year since she reached a certain age, a certain maturity, a certain height, I cringed when people asked what I was doing for Halloween.  I will admit to worrying about how others would react when they heard I was taking my high school daughter and her friends trick or treating.  Would they think the girls were too old?  That I should tell them to leave this night of childhood joy behind and be young adults?  Would they be turned away from doors with the admonishment that Halloween is for kids?

The thing is, she is still a kid. She plans her costumes, she embraces the fun and excitement of this night, she knocks on her great-grandparents door to show off her outfit, she says thank you with real gratitude. She is a high school senior this year, this last year of true childhood, and I know this will be the last time I take her out, with the car full of laughing girls and sugar flowing through veins. I am going to savor it.  I am not ashamed of wanting her to stay young as long as she can.

There will be plenty of years to come when she will be standing on the other side of the door, handing out the treats.

Not So Bitter

The twists and turns of life could make me bitter.
I could moan and groan and cry for want of what ifs.
The ways of things have not always been easy,
But I find that I can find the joy in living.

I'm so grateful for this magnificent talent,
I might not have the skills to play on key music,
Or cook a feast of gourmet magic,
But I can see every day's sunrise promise.

That's not to say I don't have rotten moments,
And times of wanting to throw a tantrum!
But deep inside I have a knowledge
That life is life and I can make the best of it.


This post inspired by prompt #3 at Mama's Losin' It!

It's Laugh Or Cry

Last night I sent this text to my husband:

"The why's and how's are not important, just this awful truth: our dogs ate people poop off our living room floor."

In these true life experiences, often the choice is to laugh or to cry.  I'm going to laugh.  Sure, there was poop on the floor, and yes, the dogs found it before any of us adult type people knew there was a problem, but holy macaroni, this is going to be a darn funny story to tell for the rest of our lives!



This post inspired by prompt #2 at Mama's Losin' It!

Right To Wear Yoga Pants

Yoga pants are my husband's least favorite thing I own.  In his defense, he doesn't like yoga pants on anyone.  I also felt a little like a cheater when I wore them, since the most yoga like thing I did was Wii related.  Yoga pants are really just sweat pants elegant cousin.

But now I have every right to wear yoga pants.  I am taking a yoga class.

My daughter started asking me to sign up way back in summer, it was something 'fun' we could do together.  I finally relented, hating the thought of it.  I hate school, I hate class, I hate being instructed.  The closer we got to the start of class, the more anxious I became.

And the first day of class, I was a cranky wreck.

That was weeks ago.  I still hate the build up to class, but then I get there and sit down and start getting into a calm zone and it's totally worth it.  I love the stretches and the poses and the time spent with my daughter.

Plus, I can wear my yoga pants with pride.  I've earned them!

Move Over Wilma And Marge

I think I've finally settled into my style groove; the sweet spot where the clothes I like are the clothes that look good on me.  It's a good place to be.  I alternate black and gray with pops of surprising color and I don't shy away from prints.

But I don't really wear accessories.  I don't usually add jewelry to my outfits.  I don't do scarfs or hats or pretty hair clips.  It's usually all about the clothes, but yesterday as I was getting ready in shades of blue, I saw this big yellow necklace.

Put it on, and loved it.

Put it on, loved it, and wished I had like ten more necklaces just like this one in different colors.

Put it on, loved it, wished for more, and had a thought tickle my mind about who always wears a big beaded necklace....

Oh, that's right.  Wilma Flintstone and Marge Simpson.

The fact that I'm taking fashion accessory advice from cartoon women doesn't faze me.  It's obviously a classic style!