Fear Me, The Bowling Wizard

For my 40th birthday last night we went bowling. Much fun was had, many glasses of wine were drunk. The bowling pins had nothing to fear from me. Strangle to say, but having a couple of glasses of wine didn’t improve my game, who knew? I bowled a solid 35. I could say that it was because I was tipsy, but that would be a lie. I was bowling worse then usual but not that much worse. When I’m playing a good game, I can break 100, last night I broke 55—once. Even though I suck at knocking down the pins, I still had a blast. My bowling bliss far out weights my bowling skill.
It was great to see my friends too; I’m sure they enjoyed watching me and my mad skills on the lanes.
After all that drinking and pin smashing last night, this morning I felt a little nauseous and sluggish (a.k.a. hung over). What a way to celebrate the big 4-0, wine and bowling. I’m class all the way.

Where Are The Ark Kits?

I'm thinking of building an ark. It's been raining for the last couple of days or so; my drive way and yard are flooded and the kids are antsy from being indoors for so long. I wonder if Menard’s carries a kit to build your own ark. Maybe in the recreation area by the boating supplies or maybe by the swing sets.
"Excuse me sir, where are the ark kits? You know ark, as in Noah's ark."

I Didn't Win, Really?

Well, I didn't win the lottery last night, I'm shocked and dissapointed. I think the gas station must have sold me the wrong ticket. I felt so certain I was going to win. How could I be wrong about something like that? I could have so much fun with all that money, I can daydream for hours about winning the lottery. Maybe next time...

Poop Sac

How can I be mad at a giggling kid? I sent my kids to bed twenty minutes ago, but the three younger ones (ages 4,7 and 11) are all snuggled up in Tom’s bed and are laughing and chuckling. I walked by and heard a strange expression being thrown around— “poop sac”. I don’t know exactly what a poop sac is, and I’m sure the kids don’t know either but they think it’s hilarious
(I guess it is a funny expression) .
I had to go into Tom’s bedroom and actually say to them, “no more laughing or having any fun, it’s bed time now, stop saying poop sac. I mean it, stop laughing, Ok guys, that’s enough, stop tittering, that means laughing, stop it and go to bed, really it’s bed time, I mean it.” I walked out and found my hubby in the hallway also snickering at the kids utterance of poop sac. Now I know where they get it…

Lordy, Lordy Look Who's 40!

The big 4-0 is looming over my head this month. I pulled this essay from an older post and re-edited it, so if it sounds familiar, you’re right, it is a repeat. I've been thinking (obsessing might be a better word) about getting older, and I guess I have some thoughts to share. Please feel free to add your comments about the best and worst things about being older.
Good things about being 40:
This is the healthiest and best I have ever felt.
Being older and wiser.
I was an idiot at 20, and I'm glad things turned out well in spite of that.
Having a great hubby, who I've been with for 22 amazing fun filled years (love ya babe).
Having four healthy, smart, funny, and kind children who make me laugh every single day.
I'm in really good shape, and having to work at it makes me appreciate it even more.
I finally don’t give a shit what other people think.
My hair has started to lose its curl (I always wanted straighter hair anyway).
I appreciate all small kindnesses, and I'm grateful for everything I've been blessed with.
I eat what’s good for me, and have learnt to like veggies.
I'm a great cook, I wasn't always (the mac and cheese years still haunt my hubby).
I can afford to have life insurance (this ones helps me sleep at night).
Not being carded at the liquor store.
Enjoying how exercise makes me feel.
Finally getting alone time, and not feeling guilty about enjoying it.
Seeing how great my kids are turning out and being proud of them.
Finally having a new vehicle (I love my minivan).
Being older and wiser enough to see the bigger picture, in everything.
Being old enough to see patterns in mine and others lives (for good and bad).
Remembering how wild I once was, and not needing to do that again (I can’t believe I survived my youth).
Getting away with more odd behavior (I look forward to being the type of old lady who does weird things like getting hot pink hair extensions braided into my hair and wearing my undies on the outside of my clothes. “Never mind Grandma, just pretend that her underwear are under her clothes.” Oh yeah, I can’t wait to embarrass the kids. I’m so going to be the “when I get old, I’ll wear purple” kind of old lady).
I don’t have to keep up with the “Jones” and I know that I don’t need the latest gadgets.
I've gotten to be a really interesting person with a lot to give.
Knowing how lucky and blessed I truly am.
I finally don't give a shit what other people think (so great I had to repeat this one).
Bad things about being 40:
Saggy parts (I won’t give a sad specific list).
Parts that stop working (so far so good on this one).
Wrinkles (I earned most of them laughing and smiling).
Not being carded at the liquor store.
Hearing my favorite songs from high school on the oldies station.
The negative list is much shorter then the positive list. I have so much to be grateful for, and I’m smart enough to realize that.

Please Don't Let Them Come Home Early

My friend Gina went out of town camping and asked my son to feed and water her animals.
“No problem.” I answered for him. She has horses, bunnies and chickens. I’ll do it myself, I thought. I love her horses and enjoy being around them. I was supposed to feed and water them on Saturday. Well, I forgot about it until Saturday night when I was driving to my sister’s house.
My sister and I were going out to dinner and a movie, so I was nicely dressed and wearing linen head to toe and my fancy shoes. With not enough time to go home to change, I decided it was now or never. I have walking shoes in my van so the muddy farmyard wasn’t a problem for my shoes; the linen on the other hand was going to be a problem.
I looked down at my clean beautiful crisp cream linen pants and pink linen blouse and looked up and noticed their long winding tree lined driveway…I looked down at my spotless clothes and up again and noticed how their place is surrounded by trees…I looked down at my outfit and wondered exactly when they were planning on coming home… I looked down at my fancy suit and thought, the horses will need hay... The hay will be dusty and wet; the hay will get my clothes wet and dirty…I looked down at what I was wearing and looked up and noticed the privacy surrounding their place.
Guess what I did...Yep, I fed her animals in my undies. Thankfully, she didn’t come home early. I think if they had come home early, she would have died laughing at me, in my white walking shoes, and my underwear hoisting a hay bale and totting her garden hose.

Do We Need Sheep?

Our mower stopped working last month; Max has been tinkering with it but has been unable to get it running. We have over one acre to mow and with all the rain during the last three weeks, our lawn is beyond shaggy. The kids need pith helmets to venture out into the yard. I’ve lost my toddler to the waves of tall grass more then once. The top of the swing set is barely visible. Ok, I’m exaggerating a bit. It’s not that long, but I was beginning to think that maybe we need some sheep.
Something had to be done, so we broke down and brought the riding lawn mower in to get fixed. Last night we picked it up and I started the process of re-clearing the land. I can’t believe all the colossal toadstools and giant mushrooms I mowed. We’ve had so much rain and the lawn was so long that immense fungus was thriving in our towering grass. I expected to see tiny fairies sitting on the broad mushrooms, elves dancing in the fairy rings or buffalo grazing in the prairie that was my yard. I’m glad getting the mower fixed worked out for us; but I have to admit, the thought of getting sheep was strangely appealing.

All I Want is a Flipping Glass of Wine!

Last night I tried to open a bottle of wine. We have a cheap corkscrew and after I got the cork out of the bottle of wine and was attempting to remove the cork, the corkscrew broke with the cork still attached. No problem, I had another old cork (key word being old) laying around so I put that into the wine bottle. As I was putting the bottle into the fridge, I noticed I hadn’t actually poured a glass yet (I guess the broken corkscrew distracted me). As I pulled the old cork out of the neck of the bottle, it broke off— leaving half in my hand and half still sealing the bottle. Ah man, now what I thought to myself. I found a small flat head screwdriver and tried to work the broken cork out of the bottleneck. All I succeeded in accomplishing was to break off more of the cork. I was left with a still sealed bottle. All I wanted was a flipping glass of wine, was it really going to be this hard? In my frustration, I gave up removing the cork and settled on pushing it all the way down into the bottle of wine. That worked, I finally got my glass of wine— with chunks of cork floating in it. I’m now thinking that maybe a screw top bottle isn’t such a bad thing…