fastened pants: The Final Frontier

Because let’s face it…we all had an extra helping (or two) of those potatoes.

“Wearing jeans for the first time after Thanksgiving is an important milestone.  When you wear denim again, you’re staking your claim as a fastened pants person.  After the third day of eating stuffing leftovers and wearing the elastic band of denial, I knew I was it was time to take action.

The thought of pulling and zipping may seem overwhelming when the heaviest thing you’ve lifted lately is a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes, but you can do this.  It isn’t easy leaving leggings, athleisure, and sweatpants behind, but if I was able to survive eight hours in my most forgiving pair of four-way stretch jeans, you can do it, too.”

I Wore Jeans for the First Time Since Thanksgiving and Lived to Tell the Tale – Sass & Balderdash

candy redux, Halloween style

In the tradition of kids everywhere, Bear returned from trick-or-treating on Tuesday and promptly dumped her bag to check out her score.  She didn’t even make it into the house – BrightSide and I were on the porch greeting littles (and bigs and in-betweens), so she and her friend flopped right down on the sidewalk to tally things up.

They were the perfect example of candy methodology, too.  One sorted hers into neat piles, combining like candies and weeding out the unsavory; the other just shoved it all into a huge mountain and (metaphorically) rolled around in her take for the night.  Can you say childhood flashback?

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sugar orgy imminent, plus coffee

Here we are, once again in the throes of an impending sugar orgy.  Kids nationwide have pillowcases set aside, ready to hit the streets at the first hint of dusk, competing to see who can collect the best treats tonight.

As for the parents?  Well, we’ve been honing our candy-sneaking skills, otherwise known as the ability to eat fourteen “fun size” (hey, marketing department, itty bitty does not equal “fun”) candy bars then fluff the remaining pile so it looks undisturbed.  Not that I’d know.  My friend has a gift.

Over the last couple of years I’ve written about the angst of searching out a non-sex kitten costume and the moms’ Halloween chronicles, but this year we have middle schoolers.  We have tweens and teens, one of each.  Kids who don’t want mom and dad hanging out with them as they go around the neighborhood.

Amen and hallelujah, we’ve hit our Halloween transition.

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SoCS – python kabobs and chocolate covered scorpions

“Which way to the fair?” asked the wicked witch, standing astride her broom, peering east then west with great interest.  “I hear they have fried key lime bites and a flaming Cheetos corn on the cob I can try.  The NC Fair had Wicked Wafflewich sandwiches, which sounds like it’d be right up my alley, but I wasn’t a huge fan.”

The kids stood staring wide eyed at the witch, wondering how to tell her the fair had packed up and left town without being turned into frogs on the spot.

“Corn dogs are overdone, I think, but my cat loves them so I always bring her some back.  I forgot at the last stop so it looks like I’ll need to do it around here.  Plus who doesn’t love deep fried mac ‘n cheese, right?  Personally, I loved the python kabobs and chocolate covered scorpions last year…I know, I know, snakes and scorpions, a little cliché for a witch, but they really were delicious.”

The kids started shifting from one foot to another, wondering if they could make it to their door before that witch could swoop them onto her broom.  Or, worse, turn them into python kabobs where they stood.

“Well, I have to say the three of you are looking a bit green around the gills.  Too much talk about food?  Or did you eat too much at the fair?  Mr. Jones – that’s my cat – puked up all her corn dogs once and she turned just your shade of green right before.  These are brand new pointy shoes, now, so maybe you ought to take a step back.  Which way did you say I could head for the fair?”

Three shaky hands lifted in unison, pointing toward the full moon rising in the distance.

“I’ll be off then.  Happy Halloween!”  The witch started to kick off the ground then turned back with a sly smile.  “Oh, and one more thing.  You might want to stick to trick or treating in the daylight hours this year.  You never know when a hungry witch might decide to drop back by for a bite.”

Linda’s Stream of Consciousness prompt for Saturdays is a chance for bloggers to have some spill it all fun.  This week’s prompt is “which/witch/wich.”  Check out Linda’s blog for more info.

the Valentine’s Day interview

For those of you looking for a fiery Valentine’s Day.  Bonus points for ridiculously opposite answers.  Happy interviewing!

“Our friend Beefy posted this little thing on Facebook the other day, and my reply was, ‘This looks like a great way for The Mister and I to bicker with one another for 10-20 minutes! How romantic!’

Who’s older?
Apparently he was in a big, fat hurry to get here and I played hard to get

Who was interested first?
Me, but then him and then me and then him, and well, that went on sometimes not at all and also for over a decade”

We Don’t Do Valentines | joeyfullystated

what valentines would look like if I wrote for Hallmark

BrightSide’s never been a huge fan of Valentine’s Day.

We show our love every day.  It’s the little things, not the cards and flowers and chocolate, that tell the people we love how much they mean to us.  What makes February 14th the ultimate litmus test for a relationship?

Yada, yada, yada, no last minute runs to the flower shop for him.  (Although, in an extreme case of irony, I have a beautiful vase of roses sitting behind me as I write.  BrightSide dropped by the store on the way home yesterday and spotted them there; I’m not normally a flowers kind of gal, but they were a really nice surprise.)

At any rate, since there’s a whole bunch of us out here who live a less than glamorous existence – what, you mean you don’t eat brunch draped in diamonds? – I thought I’d offer up some real life Valentines.  You know, for the rest of us.

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eight years of classroom cupid

Valentines Musings for My Munchkins

We've survived many a ♥ day,
you and I...
There were years 
I was certain
we'd never survive.
Addressing endless valentines,
fumbled shoebox crafts,
scouring ingredients for peanut allergies
lest we send a classmate
into anaphylactic shock.

"Bee Mine", "You Rock",
"you're the purr-fect friend!"
Huddled around the kitchen table,
enduring the angst of picking
which card goes to whom.
Then there's always the mom
whose kid does those damn
Pinterest valentines
when we all know 
you only want
the sugar

Elementary socialism
demands a valentine
for each boy, each girl -
no exceptions.
For years we've 
faithfully followed 
the rule,
candy for everyone,
no child left behind,
until the straw that broke 
the camel's back.
Now one's on strike,
refusing to take Valentines
at all
if it means putting on
a false face.

Middle school's shark tank
throws our kids in
to sink or swim
as they tread the
social waters
of tween hierarchy.
Suddenly a normal Tuesday
is rife with angst -
girls and guys
tiptoeing around each other,
painfully anxious,
parents helpless
through it all.

I do not envy you today,
my loves.