Music Composer Valentine Cards (Set of 12)

I made this set of 12 printable Valentine's Day cards for my High School Men's choir. Yes. They want to have a Valentine's Day party, complete with DIY Valentine's mail boxes and everything. So, I figured I'd make my own cards to pass out, and I figured I'd share too. You're welcome!

These would also work for private piano/voice/instrumental studio students. Just print on cardstock, cut to size, and sign your name on the back!

Click Link HERE for your own pdf! {{Printable Music Composer Valentine's Day Cards}}

Rude or Respectful. Which Audience Member are You?

When someone is given the task of standing before an audience to give a presentation, the appropriate and courteous thing to do would be to pay attention -- or at the very least, acknowledge them by making eye contact.  Would you ever dream of sitting during a presentation and pulling out a book to read or your smart phone to play games?  Would you blatantly close your eyes to take a nap or put your earphones in to listen to your iPod?  I think most of us would agree that being a respectful listener is most appropriate.

Yet as my family took several trips this past summer, and as the in-flight crew was giving their safety demonstrations (5-6 minutes, maybe), the aforementioned bad behavior is exactly what I saw.

As a former airline employee, it has always bugged me when passengers completely ignore the flight attendants during their safety presentation.  I know, I know.  You might argue their spiel is a waste of time, and that information is on that card in the seat pocket in front of you anyway.

If the cabin suddenly loses pressure, are you going to be the calm one that pulls the card from the seat pocket in front of you and reads about how the oxygen masks work or how to inflate the flotation device in the 3 minutes you have left before you pass out?

You might contend that you travel so much and have heard it so many times, you do not need to hear it again.  However many times you have heard it, the flight crew is STILL under FAA regulations to make their spiel and the courteous thing to do is to put down our books, take out our ear buds, and give them our full attention.

I don't know if you've ever had to give a presentation in front of a group before, but it is a little unnerving when no one seems to give a flying fart about what you have to say.  Respect, people.  "Just a little bit."  Not to mention it takes like 5-6 minutes of our time.  In the grand scheme of things, that isn't very much.

I worked for Delta for nearly 8 years, and what can I say?  I'm still loyal.  We flew Delta quite a bit this summer, and I have to say I love their latest in-flight safety videos.  I'm sure their marketing gurus pitched these in response to, "How can we get the attention of the passengers during the safety announcements?"  Very clever and I applaud Delta for their ingenuity.

While I think these are brilliant, I challenge you, dear passengers, to show a little courtesy and respect the next time you fly the "friendly skies."

Now - for your viewing pleasure, a few of my favorites...

7 Sins of -ail, -ill,and -ell

My linguistics professor might argue that common mispronunciations of -ell, -ill, and -ail has more to do with geographical accent than lack of knowing how to actually pronounce the word correctly.  That might be true in some cases.  However, in most other cases, it seems that we {Americans} have simply become sloppy in our diction. (Ever listen to how Americans used to speak in an old black & white show? )  I argue that the issue isn't completely a regional accent issue because I listen to these kids' parents speak and they do NOT speak like this.

This appears to be true especially over the past 2 or 3 generations.  Could it be all of that "fo' shizzle my nizzle" jargon in the early 2000s? Was it perhaps because cell phone providers used to restrict the character space of texts which resulted not only in abbreviated words, such as "SRSLY", but in slurred and murmured speech as well?  Srsly, dats mssd up.

I know I've touched on many issues in the past, in my {{grammar police report}} post. This time, I'd like to approach the pronunciation issue and proper use of words ending in -ill, -ell, -ail/-ale, and even the occasional -eal.  I don't know what it is about the letter L appearing at the end of these words that makes these words so difficult, but it seems to be the common thread.


1 - "I bought this on sell."   No.  You bought it on SALE.  It's like saying the word "Say" with an "L" on the end.  SAY+L = SALE.   Sale is the noun, sell is the verb.  They are going to sell books at the sale.

2 - "He has an awesome sell boat."  No, not a SELL boat.  A SAIL boat.  ~Sigh~ Refer back to #1.  Different word, different meaning, different spelling, but same pronunciation.  SAY+L = SAIL.

3 - "He was arrested and went to gel."  I had a coworker who would always read the county bookings on her break.  Nearly every day, there was an audible gasp followed by, "Guess who just went to gel?"  It was all I could do not to ask, "Gel? Is that the name of some new hair salon?"  This is because, of course, gel is a HAIR PRODUCT.  If you are referring to the little 8x8 room with iron bars holding someone in lock-down, the word you are looking for is JAIL.  Say the name JAY and then, add the L. JAY + L.

4 - "He wanted me to bell him out."  Unless "belling" someone out means to beat them to a bloody pulp with an iron bell, the word you want is BAIL.  BELL = cast metal object used for ringing, to gain someone's attention.  BAIL = property/money given as security for someone's reappearance to the courts.   Like before, say BAY and then add the "L".   BAY + L.

5 - "It will be a year untell I get to see him again."  This word simply does NOT exist, because it would infer that you are intending to un-tell a story or un-tell a lie, or un-tell anything which has already been told.  That's just not possible.  The word is UNTIL.  And while we are on the subject, unless you are tilling a garden, till and until actually mean the same thing.  Many think that till is a shortened version of the word until.  However, till came first and then unto it came until. (See what I did there?)  In old English (after the birth of until), many wrote till as 'til.  However, that is completely unnecessary, unless you're a poet, and is additionally considered incorrect. Pronounce the 'i' in till/until like the 'i' in tip, as in "to tip the waitress."  Simply change out the 'p' with an 'l' and you've got it. TI + LL.

6 - "That dog is wagging his tell."  Okay, I suppose if the dog is playing poker and if his tail were indeed his "tell" (an unconscious action used to betray or deceive), then that would work.  But what are the chances of a poker playing dog? TAIL.  Like TAY + L. The same is true for telling a TALE.  TAY + L = TALE.

7. - "They have great dills." True story here.  I was fairly new to Utah and had only been in my new job for about a year.  Someone offered to make a sandwich run.  I asked about the deli because I hadn't heard of it before.  One of the persuading arguments was a fellow coworker's claim.  She told me, "Oh, they have great dills!"  I asked her if the dills came with every order.  (If you know me well, you know I love a great dill pickle.)  She looked at me a little strange, shook her head and said, "Yes."  When my sandwich arrived, I asked about the missing pickle.  She then said, "Oh, you didn't ask for one."  I replied, "I thought you said they came with every sandwich."  It took a minute before they all realized I thought she was saying "Dill" as in pickle.  They roared and explained she meant DEAL.  I asked, "Well, then why didn't she say DEAL?  It sounds like DILL."  They informed me lots of Utahns speak like that now, especially the younger generations. ~sigh~   DEAL = DEE + L.

I know there are many other words which people, depending on age and location, pronounce differently.  Some say PILL+OW (pillow) while others say they have a soft PELL-OW.  Some people drink MELK, while the rest of us drink MIL+K/MILK (except me, I actually can't stand the white stuff.  Phooey!)  But, I suppose those don't bother me as much because I at least know what they mean, and those pronunciations have existed much longer, so perhaps I've grown a little more tolerance.

There you have it.  Now, with all this talk of pickles, I'm off to find a great DILL!..........

The Zone

Growing up, there were 7 children in my family and we all had chores (back in "the day" when parents actually gave kids chores).  When my mother would say, "Everyone needs to get their chores done today", one of us would ask, "who's coming over?" or another might inquire, "'Regular Clean' or 'Company Clean'?"  We knew that if company was coming it needed to be spotless, but that wasn't the only difference.

'Regular Clean' meant Mom would pull out her vinyl collection of 45s and we'd move & groove as we cleaned the house.  If one wanted to take time sorting everything out of desk drawers or the toy box, per se, one would be allowed; it seemed as long as it was done at the end of the day, all was well.  I don't think any of us kids ever looked forward to cleaning, but I do remember the feeling of accomplishment once all was said and done.  Dare I suggest it was even somewhat "therapeutic"?

'Company Clean', on the other hand, meant no messing around.  You do your job and do it now, and time is of the essence.  This mode of cleaning did not allow for ample sorting time.  Don't get me wrong; it wasn't a time for sweeping everything under the rug either.  Everything was to be in its place, polished & shined and ready for "show" (albeit we never lived in a house "fancy" enough to show).  Although this mode of cleaning was much more demanding, the reward of having company over was well worth it.  (You'd think we'd never been exposed to other humans by how excitable we became when company arrived.)

In my early adult years, we lived in small apartments or homes and I never felt like I had the proper space to entertain.  Up until that point, my motivation for cleaning had always been a) to avoid punishment from Mom or b) the imminent arrival of company.   Needless to say, I didn't feel motivated to clean anymore.

As a 20 year-old new wife and mom, I learned little "tricks" to play on myself in order to get motivated. "No crafting until I finish cleaning", or "no Oprah until all of the dishes are done". (Oprah got me through my afternoon infant feedings back then).  Sometimes, if I wanted to "play" first, I'd set a timer and begin cleaning as soon as the timer went off.  Two things I learned about myself and my cleaning persona as an adult?

1. I still prefer cleaning with the music on   - and -  
2. Once I start to clean, I become a whirlwind; it's amazing how fast I clean once I get in The Zone.

That's what I call it now - The Zone.  Once in a while I might take a day to leisurely clean out a closet, or organize drawers, but most often, when it's time to clean, I'm in The Zone.

Symptoms of The Zone

• You have a one-track mind: Must Clean.  (And everything or everyone that is not contributing to this is against you, obviously.)
• All "nice-ities" go out the window.  There is no, "Honey, will you please _________?"  It's more like, "You-- pick up this, grab that, go put this away, run that upstairs, .........  hurry. Hurry. HURRY!"
• A brisk walk.  This is a key indication that you are probably in The Zone. You basically turn into this vortex, grabbing things along the way as you pass from one room to the next while cleaning.  Note: You may also find yourself becoming extremely irritated at others (kids) who have not adopted this aspect of speed-walking for themselves; even more so, if they appear to be merely strolling about.
• You do not stop to answer texts, emails, or check FaceBook notifications.  You may even send your mother's call straight to voice-mail. (Just saying.)
• It's quite possible that, while you're in The Zone, your children or spouse may accuse you of "yelling", when in fact, you feel you are just speaking in a firm tone, in an attempt to emphasize the seriousness in which they are to accept your demands requests.
• Interruptions, of any kind, feel like huge inconveniences.

Today, while I was at the gas station, the clerk had to ask me to repeat myself a few times.  He followed up with, "I'm sorry.  I just returned from some time off, and I'm not yet back in The Zone."

I laughed and said, "My husband doesn't like it when I get in The Zone."

He chuckled and then said, as he was handing me my change, "Well, just remind your husband that when you are in The Zone, you are invincible."  He's right, I do feel invincible in The Zone. It must have something to do with Newton's law of an object in motion.

It is also true that my new husband doesn't like The Zone.  I admit, this came up shortly after we were married a few months ago. Everyone was working together to clean the house, and apparently, he wanted to take a brief moment to kiss his new bride (so sweet).  However, when he stepped into my path in an attempt to embrace me, it completely threw me off, resulting in a look of surprise on my part. (I think he referred to it as a look of disgust or annoyance.)  Luckily, for us, we communicate with each other rather well and were able to use it as a "learning" moment in our relationship.

Now, I give fair warning to any living being in the house when I am preparing to enter The Zone.  Also, if the Hubs wants a brief intermission, he now prefaces with, "Can you step out of The Zone for a minute?"
This of course usually gets me to smile and the transition is made easier.

Even though I've made a few modifications to The Zone, I'm still a vortex-- speed-walking from room-to-room, picking things up along the way, and I still send Mom to voice mail if she calls.  The Zone does make me feel somewhat invincible, and the quicker I delve right in, the more energy I seem to have, and I'm able to accomplish a lot more in less time.  To this extent, it works.

I just hope for your sake, you don't ever stop by while I'm in The Zone.

Awkward

That moment when you wake up in the middle of the night to find your laptop on your lap (turned off) -and you realize you've been sleep-typing again. Oh wait, that's just me. Awkward.

The Oyster Bar and Two Old Duffers

I had just completed a busy weekend as a committee member of a huge LDS Mid-Singles Conference here in South Davis County - and had turned the corner into Finals week at school.  It felt like I was on my feet for four straight days and I had barely started on my big final projects - all due in under 72 hours.  I wasn't getting very far with them and yet had already felt like a much-needed break.  My head was spinning with other personal-life situations and I needed to do that one thing that I usually need to do when the chaos in my head is so loud it begins to overwhelm me; talk-therapy.

Luckily for me, my neighbor and good friend, Desperate Housewife, just so happen to have her birthday gift certificate for Market Street, and it just so happens her hubby is not a fan of seafood, and she just so happened to call and tell me she was kidnapping me for the night and we were going to dinner.  It was after 7 in the evening.  I warned her I was wearing my yoga pants, a hoodie and sporting a not-so-very-cute pony-tail.  Her response?  "Perfect.  I won't bother getting dressed up then."  She's good to me like that! Haha.  She may have even made mention how she was making a fashion statement with baby spit-up stains on her shirt... I can't remember.

Anywho, by the time we got the kidlets and the babies situated and got down to the Market Street location of preference (she likes the one in South Jordan best), it was nearly 8:30pm.  I should mention that it was also a Monday night.  I don't think either of us expected there to be a dinner wait at Market Street on a Monday night at 8:30pm.  Wrong.  There was about a 40 minute wait, however the hostess told us that we were welcome to dine in the adjacent dining room ("The Oyster Bar").  The Oyster Bar is a Restaurant of the same chain and has the same exact menu as the regular Market Street.  It's just that all of the tables are centered around a bar.  We agreed.

So, we sit, order our food, etc. and soon I notice 2 old duffer's seated at the bar, looking in our direction.  "Oh no," I tell Desperate Housewife, "I think these men are going to approach us -- and look, we get our pick.  One's white and one's black."  Desperate Housewife reminded me of the warning "once you go black you never go back".  And then we laughed because regardless of color, both of these men were out of our age range, not to mention the fact she is happily married.  Well, it was only a few moments later when one of them did approach, whom we'll call Frank, and I'm fairly certain he was older than my father who will be 61 this year.  (I'm not even in my 40's yet!)

Frank walks over to our table, trying to be all suave and stuff, and says while pointing to his other friend (We'll call him George) at the bar, "George and I were wondering if you ladies would like to join us?"  I laughed and said, "Thanks, but we're busy solving the problems of the world."  Then Desperate Housewife chimes in about how she's got a husband at home.  Frank, however, would not let up.  He says, "Solving the problems of the world?  Spousal issues?  You girls are too serious! What you girls need are a few good laughs."  I replied, "Trust me -- as soon as you leave, we'll be having plenty of laughs."  Then he was all, "Now c'mon.  Don't be like that.  Really, we just want you to come and talk to us for a little bit."  Then I said, "Why don't you go back over to your seat and we'll see."  To which his face lit up and he asked, "Really?  You'll come join us?"  To which I replied, "Look George, I'm not gonna lie.  It's probably not gonna happen.  But we really do want you to go back to your seat -- or else we'll have to start talking to you about Jesus."  His eyes got really big and he asked, "Talk about Jesus? What for?"  I responded, "Studies show that the number one way to make someone feel uncomfortable is to say, "I'd like to talk to you about Jesus,""  Frank looked puzzled and stated it wouldn't work because he was an Atheist.  I told him we would pray for him, but to our God.  He chuckled again, backed away saying, "All right, all right.  I can take a hint."

Obviously, he couldn't take a hint.  About 20 minutes later, I could see they were looking in our direction again. Both Desperate Housewife and I scooted to the edge of our seats in the booth, so THEY couldn't come and join US.  But that didn't stop Frank.  He tried to rub up right next to us.  She happened to be on the phone with her hubby at the time, and when Frank figured that out, he came over to me.  He started rubbing my arm, which was, er, um CREEPY.  So, I calmly held my arm straight out and said, "Do you see my fingertips?  Anything between my body and the tips of my fingers is my sphere of personal space; right now, you're in my personal space."  He took a step back.  He had obviously got a few more drinks into him than when he had come over the first time.  He persisted in trying to get us to come and join them.  I basically told him that he wouldn't want us to anyway, because we don't offer the types of "services" he and George are probably used to.  Then he was all, "Aww, c'mon...  we're not like that."  I said, "Uh-huh.  Well, let's just say that we're not old enough to ride that ride anyway.  But I can see if my dad has any single friends in the area..."  Then our waitress came over to bring our check.  From the short exchange she and Frank had I gathered Frank and George were regulars.  Frank finally left us alone and he and George paid their bill and left.

Desperate Housewife and I decided to stay a few minutes longer as we did NOT want to be anywhere near them as they got into their cars to drive home slightly inebriated.  Of course we had to laugh about it on the way home and call our men and give them a replay of what had just happened.  Oy.

Some of my friends say that the craziest things always seem to happen to me; I don't know why, but it does seem that way sometimes.  Seriously, I couldn't make this stuff up!

Stuck

As previously mentioned I saw The Hunger Games in the theater.  I was invited to a special pre-screening event by E-man and we doubled with some of his friends.  It was way fun and you'd think that would be the most memorable event of that day, right?   Well...not exactly.

So, after the movie, I herd into the Ladies' Room with a bunch of other movie-goers while the rest of my posse waits in the hall.  I go in, find an "acceptable" stall, and do my business.  I also happen to be wearing a bracelet containing several charms on it.  Picture this...

I'm finished with my business and when I'm pulling myself back together, one of the little silver rings connecting a charm to my bracelet snags on the waist-band of my underwear and starts hanging on for dear life. Here I am standing in the stall, and my right hand is stuck to ma'undies while my jeans are still hovering around my hips; like a flight circling until cleared for landing.  As much as I tried, that tiny little silver ring would not let loose.  I debated just yanking my wrist free, but decided against it, realizing it would probably send beads and charms all over the floor, making quite the mess.  The last thing I wanted to do was crawl all over the floor of a public restroom retrieving beads.  I knew my best bet was leaving the bracelet attached to the waistband and instead figure out how to free my wrist.

The problem was the clasp to this bracelet was not conveniently located so my (non-dominant) left hand could easily negotiate my wrist to freedom.  I tried to figure out exactly where the clasp was, except -- I'm not gonna lie -- one of the Double Dangs was impairing my view. Figures.

As I continue, blindly and desperately feeling for the clasp I feel my jeans start to slip a little lower from my hips.  The last thing I wanted was for them to end up around my ankles...  Visions of me falling flat on my face from having to bend that far over with one hand attached at my waist started to taunt me.  What's that thing about objects in motion?  As a preventative measure I had to widen my stance a bit; lock those knees.

At this point I think to myself, "What if I can't get myself unstuck?  They are probably all standing out in the hallway wondering what's taking me so long, and I'm fairly certain a maniacal shout out for help will  rule out future dates with E-man.  I think about calling him and asking him to send the other girl from our group to come and help.  But my phone is in my purse hanging on the courtesy hook in the stall, and I can barely stand up tall enough to dig in and fish it out, being that I'm hunched over trapped by the mocking waistband and all.  I also figured that if I unlocked my knees long enough to stand on my tippy-toes, my jeans would definitely take a nose-dive to the ground.

So, yes...  there I am in the stall, my right hand stuck to my drawers, my legs spread out to keep my jeans from falling, my left-hand blindly searching for freedom, my chin trying to hold back the Double-Dang Twins for even the slightest chance of glimpsing that clasp, and I do what I assume most others in my predicament  would.  I begin to laugh hysterically - so much so that my eyes are welled up with tears and even if one of the Twins weren't in the way, my vision was blurred by this point anyway.  The realization that others outside the stall might hear me laughing made me laugh even harder.

After what feels like an eternity, I located the clasp and after about three tries was able to set myself free.  I left the bracelet dangling on my undies and proceeded with the routine of zipping up and washing up.  Unfortunately, the inquisitive looks from the audience waiting outside the stall were ones I was all-too familiar with; something that just seems to go along with being Emma.

When I finally emerge from the restroom and see the group, I bust up laughing all over again.  I pull E-man into a semi-lit doorway of another theater, pull the waist-band up above my jeans to reveal the dangling jewels.  I ask if he can help.  I would've/could've probably waited until I got home, except that I really do love this bracelet and I worried that being pressed underneath my jeans would entangle it even further.

As expected, he laughs a little at me, but thankfully is able to set the bracelet free and we are finally on our way.

And that, my dear readers, is just another day in Paradise when you live in my world.  The End.

So

Yes.  My Christmas tree is still up.

What?  Say something.  I dare you.

Little-B

Yes, I DID happen to drop a little breadcrumb in the previous post about me dating someone.  Yes, this is someone I like...like, "LIKE"-like.  (Not just your ordinary "like".)

I'm sure you all have tons of questions (especially, if you're family).  Well, I haven't quite decided how much I am willing to say just yet, but I will tell you this...  he has a little boy, a kindergartner.  This little boy is hilari-oso.  For reals.  I'm just going to give you three little morsels to chew on for now, and save the rest for later.

Things Little-B said:

1) His dad was reading scriptures to him the other morning.  Little-B interrupts and asks, "Dad, why do you keep saying Yay! ???"  (Yea, verily verily...)  Haha.  "Yay!" vs. "Yea".  So cute, right?  I laughed hard over that.

2) We went to go watch Star Wars in 3-D.  During the scene where Anakin is at the junk shop working, Little-B leans over and in an extremely loud whisper asks, "Dad -- how come the kids in Star Wars don't go to school?"  It was so unexpected all three of us (LittleDuckling was there too) busted up laughing for a few good minutes.

3) It was this guy's birthday a few weeks ago.  I offered to go help him clean his house and take down the Christmas tree before the party.  We spent the afternoon getting everything ready.  Instead of driving all the way home and back, I had planned to just stay and shower and get ready there.  Little-B and his dad were laying on his dad's bed watching TV while I was in the bathroom doing my hair.  Then, really loudly I hear Little-B ask, "Dad, who was that little girl at Aunt so-and-so's house?"  His dad told him.  Then Little-B asked, "What's her mom's name again?"  He tells him the woman's name.  Then Little-B says, "Yeah, her.  How come you two wanted to go for a drive?"  I busted up laughing.  Little kids sure do have bad timing sometimes.  The uncomfortable pause was so thick I could almost hear it.  Finally, he clears his throat and explains, "Uhh, your Aunt wanted us to get to know each other."  Then Little-B declares, "Well, I don't like her."  I laughed again, and then his dad says, "Yeah, neither do I."

Good answer!  haha!

Senior Pictures & Scene Stealing

I can't believe that my oldest will be graduating from High School soon!  Boy, that makes a mom feel old.  Well, because of that, he gets to graduate here on my blog too -- from FunnyMan to Keenan.

Wanted to share with you some pics from Round One of Keenan's Senior Photo Shoot...

Haha...  this one cracked me up.  Mostly because when I first flipped to it, it caught me off guard.  It's my middle son dressed in his Halloween costume from last year (Steve, from Minecraft).  Too funny.  I didn't know he was going to do that.  But since the kids' dad & uncle have the photography business, I guess they thought it would be funny.  I love how Keenan is still posing like he has no clue.  I crack up every time I see it.

Anyway, there you have it... Round One.  More photos to come!

World's Greatest Essay

My nephew wrote a paper recently.  Truthfully, when I read his work I was stunned and amazed.  In fact, this is definitely one of the best essays, if not the Greatest Essay ever written!  Read on and see for yourself!
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{{Click pic to enlarge}}

My Ant Loves Me, by Dougan

My Ant Emma loves me. My ant is nice to me.  I know that she loves me because she plays games with me and sings to me.  We play games and sing songs together. I think that she is the best ant to have.


Best paper EVER!  Am I right?    Oh yeah... and "Ant" Emma...  //snickers//.

Meetings

Last Wednesday night...

Me: I'll be home a little late; I've got a meeting after my class.

Oldest Son: Meeting? //raises eyebrows, evil grin// What's that code for?

HA!

'Twas the Night Before a Crafter's Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, I was glued to the tree
Wonderin' what Santa would bring just for me;
"Would it be cardstock or chipboard or would it be lace?
Or a Cricut!" I said with a smile on my face.


And that's when I heard him.  "Hi Santa," I said.


"You know good little girls should be in their beds."


"I know I should Santa.  And now I've been caught --
but I was excited to see you, to see what you brought!"


"Well, let's take a look in this room where you work."
He shook his head quickly and turned with a jerk.
I heard him exclaim as he put it in gear,
"You've got enough Crap!  I'll see you next year!"


(Modified from a friend-of-a-friend's Facebook status)

If This Gets Out...

A few nights ago I was chatting online with a friend.  He indicated that I should probably go look outside on my front porch.  I was already in my PJs so I sent PrettyPrettyPrincess to check it out.

She comes back with a video game and asks, "Is this for [one of the boys]?"

I laughed and said, "Nope.  It's for me."  And then I really started to laugh because A) I wasn't expecting him to bring down the game right then so it was a surprise and  B) because the look on her face was priceless-- that deer-in-the-headlights-please-tell-me-this-can't-really-be-happening look.

"No, Mom," she said.  "Please do NOT tell me you will be playing this game.  You will get ADDICTED!"  All I can do is laugh.  "Mom, seriously," she warned.  "I can't believe you are going to play this.  You're too old to play games like this.  You're a MOM."  I laughed some more.  "Mom," she says in all seriousness, "if this gets out..."  I continued laughing.  "This is going to ruin my social life." (She's eleven.) I am laughing so hard by this point I'm practically crying.  I guess mostly I thought it was funny how she just kept carrying on about it; so against the idea.  The more she protested, the harder I laughed.  "Oh my gosh Mom," she started again.  "I can't believe you're actually going to play that."

Just then her cat walked past her, meowing.  She looked at the cat, exclaiming, "I know, Cat.  I know.  I am embarrassed for her just as much as you are."

Hahaha.  That girl is too funny for her own good, I swear.

P.S. Let's just keep this between us, ok?  I'd hate for it to get out....  hehehehehehehe.

Guys I Seem to Attract

1) Guys who only care about big boobs

2) Latinos

3) Old

4) Blacks

5) Disabled

6) Asians

7) Weird, Creepy, etc

8) Unemployed

9) Guys who only care about big boobs

There, I said it. And it's true.

It's not that I am against Latinos, Asians or Blacks. I mean, I had an interracial marriage for over 14 years (not that THAT worked out, hehe). Just saying that honestly, I tend to be more attracted to Caucasians. I don't think that's wrong, do you? I mean, you are attracted to whom you're attracted to, right?

Old men? Bleh. That'd be like dating my father's friends -- or worse, my father's father's friends! (I just threw up in my mouth!) Aside from Sting, I am not attracted to older men. (shudders)

Trust me - the issue isn't about looking past the surface when it comes to severe disabilities. I know some very beautiful souls with disabilities. It's just that I have a lot on my plate right now, and dealing with a severe disability can take a lot out of a person. Maybe I am being selfish, but it is just something I don't feel I can handle at this time, especially while I am working and going to school and raising 3 kids. I also think it takes someone with a very special soul to be a caretaker for someone with severe disabilities. It is a gift that I do not feel I have been given at this time.

I sort of lump weird and creepy into the same category, although one doesn't have to be both to fit here. Weird and creepy is hard to describe, and yet you always know it when he's standing right in front of you asking you out. Yikes.

And the whole Big Boobs thing? I get it. Guys are "visual" and they were made that way. I don't take issue with that. I take issue with the fact that he may not realize there is more to me than the chestacle dept. -- more going on upstairs than in the Land of Boobage. I mean, c'mon... Though I am not brilliant, I do think I am smart. I consider myself to be fairly quick-witted and clever. I love a good laugh and love physical affection. The boobs should just be a perk. Y'know, like when you're shopping for a car and the salesman tells you it comes with heated seats. Not many people would pay for the heated seats, but if it comes with it, they'd be like, "Hey! Su-weet!"

All I am saying is -- I want a respectful, employed white guy, close to my age... is that so hard to ask? If not, then where are they hiding!?!?! lol.

I am about ready to hire a stand-in boyfriend to help ward the dudes in the above categories off.

Reasons I Probably Would Not Go Out With You

• You're too young.
• You're too old.
• You're too short.
• You're too scrawny.
• You're too bulky.
• You have a comb-over, which means you are either A)Insecure B) In Denial C) You Rationalize D) You believe the myth that bald=old looking. (Hello! Have you SEEN Mr. Clean?) E) All of the above.
• You have bad breath.
• You use that "natural stone" deodorant and you think you don't need real deodorant (which is a mistake, by the way).
• You think regular showers are frivolous.
• You bathe in your cologne.
• You're in denial about the "spare tire" forming around your midriff and therefore where shirts 2 sizes too small and those poor buttons are hanging on for dear life!
• You talk too much.
• You don't talk enough.
• You don't find me funny -- or worse -- you don't "get" my jokes.
• You think we should stay in Church Clothes all day on Sunday.
• You won't go to church on Sunday.
• You Drink.
• You Smoke
• You lie.
• You're into yourself more than me.
• You drive a Volkswagon Bug.
• You are a high-talker.
• You are a mumbler.
• You have bad grammar.
• Any of your visible teeth are gold.
• You have a foot fetish.
• You correct me too often.
• I have to correct you too often
• You are picky eater.
• You never go anywhere without your satchel on your shoulder.
• You are afraid of spiders, snakes, mice, or anything of the kind.
• You chew with your mouth open.
• You are a mouth breather.
• You are of the opinion that only kids wear braces.
• You don't have a job.
• You think there is a possibility that you *might* have kids out there somewhere.

.... I am sure there are more - but that's a good start!

To Be or Not To Be... Offended.

I offended someone. Big surprise. Probably not the first time, and I am almost certain it won't be the last.

I don't say that to be mean. I say it because it was bound to happen. Sooner or later we [probably] all say things that may offend someone else, even if it wasn't our intention.

That's the case here. It was not my intent to offend. I didn't even know the other person was having a bad day. He was laughing and joking with the rest of us in the group.

FAAACTUH: I poke fun at myself, I kid around with others and sometimes I am a bit sarcastic. But my sarcasm isn't to be mean. And normally, I do it in an obvious way (or what I perceive as obvious) so that they know I am only kidding. Like I said, though. I can also take it. I figure if I dish it out, I HAVE to be willing to take it.

For example, typically when someone teases me, I usually reply with, "As if that's my only problem." I wasn't always so laid back. But I suppose I finally came to a realization that it is not worth it to get upset or easily offended over the little stuff. Besides, I learned life is a lot more funnier if I can laugh at myself. Not to say I never allow my feelings to get hurt. Because on occasion I have and on occasion I do; mostly when I am tired.

As far as joking around goes, I am a big proponent of knowing your audience. For example, I probably wouldn't be sarcastic during a job interview or a funeral or someplace where it would be inappropriate. And typically I only venture into that side of humor when I really know the person well. However, my [often mis-interpreted] humor can sometimes manifest itself if I am feeling anxious around certain people, especially if I feel like I do not fit in. It can also kick in as my way of dealing with someone who completely irritates me.

Anyway -- back to the incident. He was laughing and joking in the group and he made some funny comments, one after the other actually, that really set up some nice comebacks for the rest of us. I thought we were all engaging in banter. There wasn't anything in his demeanor that led me to believe he was feeling anything but enjoyment.

Then -- 2 nights later -- in a text he tells me that *I* made him "sad". That he was feeling like the group was "kicking him while he was down." Immediately I said sorry. I told him that I was sorry we offended him and that if we would have known how he felt, we would have left him out of the joking around bits. I thought that would be the end of it. But no.

He proceeded to go on and on about it. It got to the point wherein I felt like he was trying to make me feel guilty about the entire ordeal.

I finally explained that sometimes I use humor and sarcasm in a new setting when I am anxious or when I am with really good friends because we know each other well enough to take it. I wasn't trying to make an excuse, only explaining the situation. I couldn't figure out why he couldn't let it go after I had already apologized. I think by this point I had texted "I'm sorry" at least 2 more times, so a total of 3!

His response to my explanation was more or less a line of questioning regarding my relationship with God. He basically said I should be praying a minimum of 2 times per day and reading my scriptures daily and that God could help me overcome such unhealthy habits.

Ex-SQUOOOOZE me?

Yep. You read that right. Am I wrong to think he was trying to manipulate me into feeling like a bad person because I UNINTENTIONALLY offended him?!?!?! Good grief! Oh and FYI -- personality traits are not the same as bad habits.

Like, how in the world would he even know how often I prayed or studied?!?!?! I wanted to bob my head and retort, "You don't know me!"

Instead, I politely but firmly replied that while my level of faithfulness is not his business I value my relationship with God and feel that I am in a good place, doing the best I can in this moment of my life, especially with everything I've got going on. I further explained that I will not allow the power of my happiness to be given over to anyone, and that I have finally come to a point in my life wherein I love me!

Yep. Ain't no shame. I love the person I have become!

Not to say I never make a mistake and I have things I am always trying to improve upon. I believe we can always be learning something. But using humor as a way to cope with life is how I do. It is a part of me. I come from a long line of story-tellers and funny people. It's in my genes. Not.Even.Kidding. Not that I am always funny either. Just saying... it's who I am and I LIKE it.

So, NEWS FLASH: I will NOT apologize for being me.

I did offer this as a solution: "I think it would be best in the future if you speak up and tell us if something is bothering you and I will know from now on that you are sensitive to sarcasm and I will refrain from using it. I think this is the only way we can successfully be friends."

His response was that he was "ditching" me as a friend but that he just wanted to give me feedback on my friendship abilities first, "just like a teacher would critique you on your writing," he wrote.

WHAT.EVER. Dude... seriously? Let me fill you in on a little secret. I WANT feedback from my teacher. In fact I PAY for it -- with Tuition. It's my way of ASKING for it. I don't recall ASKING you for Friendship feedback. Plus -- have you seen my FB friend list? Not exactly a shortage in the friend department. Not bragging. Just sayin'...

Oh - and one more thing... He was so bent on trying to "punish me" and make me feel guilty, that he couldn't even see how his accusations about me and my religious faithfulness might be offensive.

I think about all of the times I have been offended in my life. Most of the time I never even bring it up to the other person, because after I take some time to cool down I ask myself what their intentions were. And more often than not, I come away believing that people do not intend to offend.

People are just people. We all have different personalities. Some appreciate sarcasm while others do not. Some want to coddle and be coddled while others (ME) find it smothering. Some like to be blunt and to the point while others find that too harsh and mean. We have different personalities, ergo the likelihood of any one of us offending someone else exists.

Only once did I feel like someone was just lashing out to be mean and she continued to do it over and over. I finally called her on it. She ended up apologizing, for which I thanked her, and then - here is the key - I let it go!

Bottom line. I believe that if we get offended, it's our choice to take offense. Often times the knee-jerk reaction is not the best path. My knee-jerk reaction would have been to tell this guy that he had some nerve acting all self-righteous and how dare he question something so personal to me and who does he think he is and isn't he just the pot calling the kettle black, after all he just offended me!!! But I didn't say those things. I am no longer irritated and I do not hold grudges.

Truth be told, I think he was feeling like crap cuz things in his life aren't going his way at the moment. I suppose he needed someone to take it out on, someone to blame. Might as well be me, right? I will say this though... I do not like drama. And Man-Drama is even worse. Bleh.

So where does that leave us? To be or not to be offended? The choice is yours.

You Write the Caption!

The Assignment

I have an assignment due in just a little over 2 weeks. It's to write a journalistic essay. Specifically, I am to go someplace or do something I've never gone or done before and then write a journalistic essay on it. Lots of ideas are spewing around up in the ol' noggin. I am sure when I find "it" -- the right project -- I'll know.

I started off in the "invention" phase of my piece, brainstorming about possible topics. In doing so, I asked myself, what is something I've never done before? There were lots of things. The first few that came to mind were...

Work on a farm/ranch for a day

Rock Climbing

Ghost Hunting

Fly Fishing

Attend a Renaissance Fair or Sci-Fi Convention

Someone in class brought up visiting a nudist colony. I know that is something I could never do -- not even for the sake of an 'A' - HaHa!

Then something else came to mind. I've never attended a midnight showing of some trendy new film, such as...... a TWILIGHT movie!

I started getting all excited. Now THIS is something I would probably never do. I have never even read any of the Twilight books, nor seen any of the movies. It's not that I "hate" them... how can I hate something I know nothing about? It's just that they are not the genre of stuff I typically enjoy. Even my besties who swear on their mother's aunt's dead sister's grave that Twilight is phenomonal and that I'd just love it if I gave it a chance are hard-pressed to change my mind. And the thought of spending $9 to stand in line in the middle of the night with a bunch of Twihards just does not appeal to me. Not to mention I'd probably have to buy a big tub of popcorn and some Milk Duds just to stay awake. So, that's like, what? Another $20? I can stay at home and fall asleep to a show I don't enjoy for free!

So I says to myself, "Self," I says, "Surely there is a Twilight movie coming out soon. I mean, it's all I've been hearing about for the past week." So I pulled up the local theater and guess what I see?

There is a link right there on the home page with flashing lights and sirens which reads, "The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn, Part 1". I start to get excited, thinking a night with Twihards dressed in their Edward T-Shirts, drinking Diet Cokes from their Breaking Dawn Souvenir Movie cups would be just the sort of thing I could really enjoy writing about. But then, I notice the "ticker"... It's a countdown to the release date. 156 Days 02 Hrs 30 Mins 49 Secs for the release of this li'l gem. Um, really? There is a countdown for a movie that isn't even coming out until the middle of November?!?!?! Wow. I guess the Twihards are more diehard than I even imagined.

So, it's back to the drawing board for me... unless you have any better ideas?

Blog Stalking

Blog Stalking: To read and/or follow someone's blog without leaving a comment or making it known you're following.

If you're here, chances are, you've done it. You've stalked a blog or two in your day. No worries, I've stalked a few blogs myself. Ain't no shame. And lemme be the first to say, that if you've ever stalked my blog, why thanks. I simply love attention knowing that perhaps something I have written has been beneficial or at the very least, mildly entertaining for someone.

I know a lot of people blog to keep family members informed of the "goings on" in their lives. Not me. I mean, it's great that my family can read this and know what's happening in my world. However, this blog is not the "Emma's Family Blog" nor a digital scrapbook of sorts. It's just whatever I feel like writing.

I originally started blogging after I was divorced. Blogging gave me an avenue by which to channel my anxiety, even if I didn't necessarily blog about the divorce. I was entering a new chapter of my life and while realizing that I am writing my story now, it was only natural for me to blog. Additionally, I am an insomniac. I would sleep a few hours at a time each night and anything more than 4 hours total was "good". So -- I had lots of time to blog.

That being said, I had tons of time to read blogs too. And read them I did. I would read blogs for inspiration, for entertainment and for validation -- to know that I wasn't the only one kinda like me out there. I met some of whom I now consider my closest friends via blogging. A few I would even go as far to say we're "kindreds". For realsies.

I probably followed close to 150 blogs on a daily basis. And I quickly gained a following of approximately that many in return. But then - something happened. Yep, the F word happened. Facebook.

With the rise of Facebook, many bloggers abandoned their posts on the blogosphere and as a result they also stopped following. And not only did they stop blogging and stop following, but they stopped following ME! I know, right? Who would ever want to forsake this li'l gem I've created here?

Then I started back at school and as my schedule changed, my family needs changed and so did my world of blogging. I have not been able to post as often as I'd like, nor have I been able to follow as many blogs as I'd like.

I've finally went through my blogroll and deleted the blogs that haven't posted in over a year (unless they are super-duper friends) as well as the blogs that no longer serve a purpose for me anymore. So, if I have stopped following, please do not take it personally or think that I have not enjoyed reading your blog. It's just that my needs have changed and my reasons for blogging are a bit different now. And of course, by slimming down the blogs I follow, I will have more time to leave bloggy comment love on the ones I do read.

I am not naive enough to believe that everyone who started off following me still does and I realize I may lose followers over this. I mean, this isn't my first rodeo. I know how it works: You gotta give love to get love. I have a bloggy friend I met a few years ago and we both started blogging about the same time. She has over 1,100 daily followers and she probably spends every hour of every waking day reading and commenting on blogs, for the pure purpose that those bloggers will read and comment on her blog in return. What a comment whore! haha. Just kidding! But she did tell me recently, "If you had been following more blogs, then you'd have more followers by now." I was all, "No. En. No." I don't have time to read even HALF that many! Sheesh!

That being said, thank you to those who are still reading and following. I totally heart attention the friendships I've made! Even though I am also a Facebook addict user, I will always blog so long as their is a forum by which to do so. I am a writer. It's what I do.

Nuff said.