tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47193946597821615582024-02-07T10:53:17.904-08:00Jodi WhiteheadAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.comBlogger139125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-45448808728381759492015-08-24T19:57:00.001-07:002015-08-24T19:57:59.405-07:00Look Ma! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG4JtXOVsB9IA-o0Du9TEOKM2t-vDjq7tWEp0qDz3FtyPlsl4vKIgTSOnarvT055DHYU6FljQODmPX-z-lRMkFDlpnPA9TsCMEoNQWcFgCSDy85PK0VvsENPrQ8p1SBmGFh5bGlB7XU3M/s1600/moris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG4JtXOVsB9IA-o0Du9TEOKM2t-vDjq7tWEp0qDz3FtyPlsl4vKIgTSOnarvT055DHYU6FljQODmPX-z-lRMkFDlpnPA9TsCMEoNQWcFgCSDy85PK0VvsENPrQ8p1SBmGFh5bGlB7XU3M/s320/moris.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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My 4 month late twice-yearly dental exam and cleaning is over!!! I am the proud owner of a cavity free set of chompers. And grateful. I actually thank God regularly for my teeth. Yes, I am serious. (Am I the only one who thinks that a single smiling tooth is a creepy way for a dentist to advertise? Why would a solitary extracted tooth be smiling? And on the subject, if you were to Google "Dentist," you would see picture after picture of smiling patients with their mouths wide open. I have NEVER seen a person happy to visit the dentist. EVER.) As I sat through my exam with my fingers digging into the arm rests, I was thinking to myself that this is such an awkward situation. You have someone you barely know in your personal space examining your teeth for starters. And where are you supposed to look? Personally, I just close my eyes and fantasize that I am in Target shopping for new, luxuriously soft, thirsty, almond colored set of hand towels. (Yep. That really is my fantasy at the moment. White is too much maintenance, grey is too trendy, almond is perfect.) Are you supposed to look them in the eye? That would be creepy. Do you look at the ceiling tiles? The wall? The light? And what about your tongue? Are you a straight up point-to-the-ceiling kinda person? Do you try to lay it flat? Do you "roof-it?" Do you put it on the opposite side of your mouth? And what do you do when they try to make small talk with you? Do you answer them? Give hand signals? Sign language? What if they don't know sign language? Do you blink once for yes, and two for no? How do you know that for them, two blinks means yes? Should you use Morris code? Does ANYONE know Morris code? There are just too many things to figure out. I suppose I should ask a hygentist or a dentist for their opinion...But I avoid them at all cost. Remember I put off my visit for 4 months? Admittedly, my dentist is a very nice lady, and our family has been going to her for about 10 years now. She has Netfliks for you to watch (why you would want to invest 30 minutes into a 90 minute movie is beyond me though. Is it OK for you to stay till it's done even though the exam is over?) She also has massaging exam chairs. And digital x-rays. But until she gets rid of the drill, I won't enjoy being there. Sorry Dr. Scoggins...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-50683168477651247072015-08-24T19:40:00.001-07:002015-08-24T19:40:24.686-07:00How to survive in So Cal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiThEaZZnXeryWvPbmXVheHRnZj6xTK9yYGJe8hpKBM4vh1APGY2VP9i3Nv8KgpK1tQx7_C5yq9rzats4oLbUU6iI4olh1S-iTLEB1vItJhlqalq6MqNAGeRWnAY-IpqDl-bxIh2MVmzCY/s1600/405+fwy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiThEaZZnXeryWvPbmXVheHRnZj6xTK9yYGJe8hpKBM4vh1APGY2VP9i3Nv8KgpK1tQx7_C5yq9rzats4oLbUU6iI4olh1S-iTLEB1vItJhlqalq6MqNAGeRWnAY-IpqDl-bxIh2MVmzCY/s320/405+fwy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of California? Is it the Malibu coast? The pine topped mountain peaks? Maybe it is the Hollywood hills. However, if you happen to actually live here, you know there is more to California than the scenery and tourist destinations. That's right my friends, we are talking entitled environmentalists, Vegans with an attitude, Pit Bull activists, and Gangstas.This can be a dangerous place. It's not all glorious poppy fields, and happy cows making good cheese. I wasn't born in So Cal, but I grew up here.So, I can give you some legitimate advice on how to keep yourself from getting attacked by a Vegan or shanked by a Gangsta. Here are some rules to live by for any Cali-newbies, or those of you who might just be passing through:<br />
1) If you visit a Farmers market, do not ask what the difference between "Organic" and "Natural." Just pretend you know. <br />
2) If someone hands you a "Save the Whales" flyer, do NOT engage them in conversation.<br />
3) Whether you are with friends or family or strangers, NEVER discuss politics or gun control.<br />
4) If visiting LA, do not wear red or blue. Even on the 4th of July.<br />
5) Get everything done before the sun sets. In other words, don't go out at night.<br />
6) Even if you are a Raiders fan, DON'T wear Raiders logo.<br />
7) If someone offers you some ice, it's not for your favorite beverage. Trust me here.<br />
8) Avoid making eye contact for more than 3 seconds.<br />
9) If someone asks you how much you want of something, TELL them, but never hold up your fingers to show them. This could be confused with flashing a gang sign.<br />
10) If you need to bank, go inside. Do not use the ATM.<br />
11) Do not discuss the difference between Grass-fed and Grain-fed beef. Especially with Vegans.<br />
12) Avoid the 405 between the hours of midnight and 11:59 pm. <br />
13) Do not speak of Angels to Dodgers fans or vice versa. <br />
14) If someone asks you to go to a Harvest crusade, you should absolutely go. It has nothing to do with farming. And tell Greg I said hello.<br />
15) And lastly, even though I already mentioned it, AVOID the 405.<br />
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I sure hope that helps you during your visit. Don't forget to visit In N Out, dip your toes in the Pacific Ocean, and drive up to Big Bear for a picnic. Have a good time and just to be on the safe side, make sure you carry a shank or some pepper spray with you. <br />
Till Next time,<br />
Miss Jodi<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-68804564006793257772015-08-23T19:59:00.001-07:002015-08-23T19:59:56.313-07:00Family traditions<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMt9L5OagyKGsFtgcMh4qcbr4tLbJpEHS8rA_jNu163dIS9YHM24I9UiNPC1KYmBKBr4ZjOQp1CgF5DDthfZ0tFpyqKDTLeRdbRTMYCAgJINO-MIhiNz0yK-1c5O5LevD-RLEPRxzfeo/s1600/norman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHMt9L5OagyKGsFtgcMh4qcbr4tLbJpEHS8rA_jNu163dIS9YHM24I9UiNPC1KYmBKBr4ZjOQp1CgF5DDthfZ0tFpyqKDTLeRdbRTMYCAgJINO-MIhiNz0yK-1c5O5LevD-RLEPRxzfeo/s1600/norman.jpg" /></a></div>
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What separates a cold sterile home from one that is filled with laughter and history? Traditions. It's the stuff memories are made of. Decorating the tree for Christmas. Nanas deviled eggs for Easter. Grammy's famous rolls for Thanksgiving. Uncle Frank pulling a shiny penny out of your ear. Breakfast in bed for your birthday. Those little things that make your family unique. I thought it would be fun to let you get know me and my family a little better by sharing some of our own special traditions. Here are just a few that make our home special:<br />
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1) "You're on your own for dinner tonight or I'm going to fix you a big bowl of nothing." This is one of my favorite's. It happens randomly but on a somewhat regular basis. Usually when we have had a particularly busy few days. I strive to make a home cooked meal for us to share together around the dinner table each night. Strive being the key word here. Let's face it, life gets crazy. Especially with kids, jobs, school, pets, and the occasional online stalker. You have to choose your battles. And I just want you to know, that PB and J sammies, or a bowl of cereal is OK every once in a while. No one is going to die.<br />
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2) "Let's see what's in the freezer and cook it for dinner tonight." This is similar to the previous tradition, but involves me realizing at the last minute that I forgot to plan tonight's dinner. Out of desperation, I must go on a treasure hunt of sorts to find something somewhat nourishing that can be heated up and served on a platter (presentation is everything, a little sprig of parsley artfully placed next to the previously frozen entrée on an attractive platter doesn't hurt anything either). If you are interested in adopting this particularly charming tradition for your own family, might I suggest making friends with the Schwans man? Also, frozen taquitos and a box of Stouffers Mac and Cheese are your BFF's. <br />
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3) "Gluing a quarter to the sidewalk out front." This is an endless source of entertainment and only costs (you guessed it Smarty pants) a quarter and a few drops of super glue. I don't know why we started doing this, but in each place we live, we glue a quarter close to the front door. Everyone from the Schwans delivery man to the sweet old lady across the street tries to pry that baby up. Occasionally, someone will try to be helpful and tell me that there is a quarter stuck to the sidewalk. Of course I always act surprised and thank them. Sometimes I even say, "There is? How odd..."<br />
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4) "Avoiding politics at family gatherings." This came about when we realized that just because we are family, our political views don't necessarily match up. That and I prefer to remain on speaking terms with loved ones. Presidential candidates just aren't worth Uncle James cutting you out of his will. <br />
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5) "Turning the clock forward on New Years Eve so you can go to bed on time." As children come into your life and rob you of sleep, you need to make adjustments wherever you can in order to ensure you get some Z's. I know that this will make you think I am a genius, I am not. This came about from sleep deprivation and sheer desperation. I can function while hungry. I can live off of frozen taquitos for an extended period of time. But I cannot function without sleep. I become murderous. So, when the kids were little and excited about staying up till midnight to welcome in the New Year, I quickly realized that it was a good idea to celebrate the New Year with my friend who lives in a time zone that is 3 hours ahead of us. Simply turn the clocks ahead 3 hours and hand the kids some pots, pans and wooden spoons. Then, at "Midnight," celebrate the New Year and go to bed at a reasonable hour. The kids are happy, you are happy. Everyone except your neighbors who remain confused are happy. Win win my friend. (when the children are old enough to read a clock, this no longer works. So enjoy it while you can.)<br />
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6) "Bring home a rock souvenir." In an effort to save a couple of dollars and to keep the Flotsam in our home to a minimum, we began collecting rocks as souvenirs on our travels instead of the usual "Made in China" plastic junk that breaks before you finish paying for it. And let's be honest here, a woman can only stand a certain number of snow globes (that number is two FYI), sea shell encrusted picture frames, clever coffee mugs, or black market T shirts. And set of 8 pineapple shaped coasters will not remind you of your wonderful trip to the Florida Keys, nor will the green foam Lady Liberty hat remind you of your trip to New York City. Since we are on the subject, Mickey ears with your name embroidered on the front serve no purpose on this earth, NONE. Well, maybe the purpose is to make the CEO of Disney a little richer, (and who wants to do that?) but that's about it. The remedy to all this is to stop somewhere along your vacation destination and pick up a pebble. Carry it home and put it in your garden. Free landscaping and no snow globe. You are welcome. <br />
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7) "Pajama Day." (not to be confused with fat-pants Friday.) This doesn't need to stop when the kids are older. It is just as nice to have a Jammie day when you are an adult as it is when you are little. There is simply something comforting about wearing a cozy pair of pajamas all day long after a harsh week. My only recommendation is to avoid going out of the house and running errands during Jammie day. You never know when your car is going to break down, and explaining to the Officer why you decided to make a donut run in your pajamas isn't as easy as it sounds. Trust me. <br />
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8) And last? "Buy some games and play them often." (the Quiet-game and Clean-up Clean-up do not count.) I recommend Uno, Sorry, and Apples to Apples. Play them at least once a week. Read chapter books together. Teach each other to say please and thank you, and I love you. Often. Take lots of pictures, love each other, and pray together. <br />
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I hope you enjoyed reading about our traditions, I would love to hear some of yours.<br />
Till next time,<br />
Miss JodiAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-63265644033072875712015-01-02T15:38:00.001-08:002015-01-02T15:38:32.452-08:00boom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyhFTM9Ef2nsuwTovd7j-8n9-bsrLTeh_1o7FMIxHrnxRT3gsYz0lgFGTtnagoUqeKSPYt4ATwOGWZVZDzI35vj0JfJuzAgnITw07eNHDCh-9amU86bGQ9bj3iHkbG1LB0CJZeVRgLr7U/s1600/boom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyhFTM9Ef2nsuwTovd7j-8n9-bsrLTeh_1o7FMIxHrnxRT3gsYz0lgFGTtnagoUqeKSPYt4ATwOGWZVZDzI35vj0JfJuzAgnITw07eNHDCh-9amU86bGQ9bj3iHkbG1LB0CJZeVRgLr7U/s1600/boom.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-21321781838602591582014-10-24T19:54:00.000-07:002014-10-24T19:54:41.684-07:00Jesus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4V5EGyz2YV1YFSqiVY1BNJo217nVZlUOB-ljLjycuY65ydBE6Y7Da5xEiBJcpK3zcR_7ld0slR4sfUBC13_8QYmDeC2bLIzKNpyaHaoG4ZgClAW_4z1re-37xcjhDXsqOXnOmGeSqCs/s1600/Jesus+tamales.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4V5EGyz2YV1YFSqiVY1BNJo217nVZlUOB-ljLjycuY65ydBE6Y7Da5xEiBJcpK3zcR_7ld0slR4sfUBC13_8QYmDeC2bLIzKNpyaHaoG4ZgClAW_4z1re-37xcjhDXsqOXnOmGeSqCs/s1600/Jesus+tamales.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
I know I have told you before about parking lot tamales here in SoCal. The ones we had tonight were just heavenly, seriously. Thank you Jesus! Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-29590099498200160882014-10-20T15:58:00.000-07:002014-10-20T15:58:48.935-07:00color palette<br />
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Need inspiration for a color palette for your home? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJMX-o97G6YkIadluXhviVvWXy8AVKLPyG-FR7PkA1ikqTe4V_UQFkoIZ8l8gMHNZI0lJM8iSO_9coGExmFxAJyH-XUnB6Su1K0v40G9-G-w65KN-0uFSNwdjrAjGrGWfIoCorwDQNrc/s1600/funny+pallette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJMX-o97G6YkIadluXhviVvWXy8AVKLPyG-FR7PkA1ikqTe4V_UQFkoIZ8l8gMHNZI0lJM8iSO_9coGExmFxAJyH-XUnB6Su1K0v40G9-G-w65KN-0uFSNwdjrAjGrGWfIoCorwDQNrc/s1600/funny+pallette.jpg" height="320" width="276" /></a></div>
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There ya go. You are welcome.<br />
Miss JodiAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-65093441803788550862014-09-27T19:26:00.000-07:002014-09-28T19:43:27.470-07:00Pink plastic couches<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUeZfUISmMd5IKU4n9lMmxjWUiRrNzkhLbpQj7R5drJmmWOKZZYWDZox4yj0BwiOXVejziLdWkrLGvdFs7vT1VAfbjMWbcT2fBw1l7qE7jH2FEGw-oz3qvM_cbUFq4M3-nc37-051J9cM/s1600/cat+throwing+up.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUeZfUISmMd5IKU4n9lMmxjWUiRrNzkhLbpQj7R5drJmmWOKZZYWDZox4yj0BwiOXVejziLdWkrLGvdFs7vT1VAfbjMWbcT2fBw1l7qE7jH2FEGw-oz3qvM_cbUFq4M3-nc37-051J9cM/s1600/cat+throwing+up.png" /></a></div>
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If I could teach my cat any trick in the entire world, it would not be to fetch my slippers, or bring me the evening paper, or even to wear boots and fight evil...It would be to run to the bathroom and lean over the toilet bowl before the throw up. Cats vomit profusely. They happen to be rather dramatic vomiters as well, and, do not discriminate where they vomit. Any surface that may be difficult to clean is fair game to them, and they seem to discriminate against easily cleaned surfaces such as tile. Our cats seem to have a particular fondness for vomiting on the carpet RIGHT NEXT TO the easy to clean linoleum. I can stand the public bathing , I could tolerate their nocturnal schedules. Heck, I could even deal with the cat litter that they kick out as they exit the cat box, but puke on my carpet or even worse, my COUCH? I just can't do it Jack. I recently had a very un-cat-loving-friend bring me dinner. This friend happens to be from a culture that does not allow animals in their house because they are considered dirty. (Gee, I wonder why...) I had just had major surgery and out of the kindness of her heart, she brought over a delicious pot of soup for our dinner. I invited her to sit and visit with us for a while, and no sooner did she sit down on the couch than the bleeping cat decides to start his retching. A retching cat is not a quiet thing. I am convinced that it can be heard from within a 15 mile radius...I was horrified. My family was horrified. What should I do? My mind was racing...should we grab kitty and throw it in the bathroom? Should we pretend we don't hear it? Ignore it? I settled on distracting my guests...I spoke loudly over the retching, almost yelling, in hopes of them not hearing the horrifying sounds. Either they didn't hear it or my yelling covered it because my guests didn't even raise an eyebrow, they just kept on talking as if nothing was amiss. I couldn't believe my good fortune! One of my daughters casually went over and cleaned it up without being seen and my friend left without the knowledge of my bulimic feline. It took all that was in me not to feed that cat to the coyotes... but I didn't. And I won't. Although, I'm sure that thought will revisit me the next time I find a gift on my carpet...Say, do you happen to know where I can order some of those plastic couch covers from the 70's? On second thought, I never understood why all of Barbi's furniture was hot pink and plastic. NOW I understand, she must have had a cat.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTMmukJ03NK5A29UkRudRE1zhMfVnX-yX3Ev1qbRz-3IpLKEtYOYdwMJ6-0WGMcEJWsPORAt-KGybcKgRA5sEJHzLrQjjnRDIo9pHC32VKx85hxr8G7UKy3Rv9bbQy9GtwIgroUdpb8Y/s1600/barbi+couch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTMmukJ03NK5A29UkRudRE1zhMfVnX-yX3Ev1qbRz-3IpLKEtYOYdwMJ6-0WGMcEJWsPORAt-KGybcKgRA5sEJHzLrQjjnRDIo9pHC32VKx85hxr8G7UKy3Rv9bbQy9GtwIgroUdpb8Y/s1600/barbi+couch.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-69176250740855930602014-07-26T15:55:00.002-07:002014-07-26T15:55:25.320-07:00Thanks Samantha.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhintccFXx1OgfR4FMbSzUbltio78E8dUK_wTt99EHXXFEHrMGrLio5ckNLd3W4ts4zq5lXQvwvzn4guvQqw3n3_RnQGRX8wahEK45CQ6z5mYUzIOfVsE3Q8-oZmK8rigSH_ZQf54Hyg5I/s1600/tryin+to+get.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhintccFXx1OgfR4FMbSzUbltio78E8dUK_wTt99EHXXFEHrMGrLio5ckNLd3W4ts4zq5lXQvwvzn4guvQqw3n3_RnQGRX8wahEK45CQ6z5mYUzIOfVsE3Q8-oZmK8rigSH_ZQf54Hyg5I/s1600/tryin+to+get.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-31429805195514739972014-07-15T21:31:00.000-07:002014-07-15T21:31:28.791-07:00yep<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieKOm91YOydot09bZLAeXtQKXy_0pT-aQa7NwnkDa3yNh72GXp1nxt3O55M_YatPEOQzJrdr8vGIOahPS-a4NM_NAVrrXMLzJ0rCPgc860RrJh2XBq5Q7WcOIIMTeGdNRturY857bi8iI/s1600/instead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieKOm91YOydot09bZLAeXtQKXy_0pT-aQa7NwnkDa3yNh72GXp1nxt3O55M_YatPEOQzJrdr8vGIOahPS-a4NM_NAVrrXMLzJ0rCPgc860RrJh2XBq5Q7WcOIIMTeGdNRturY857bi8iI/s1600/instead.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-72574292063698109932014-07-09T18:15:00.000-07:002014-07-15T21:38:17.844-07:00How to clean your home in just 45 minutes a day<br />
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I know we all have different standards. I am no Martha Stewart. A recent move has reminded me of just how grotesque the average American family can be. Add in a couple of pets, the dust from a fondness of fresh air from open windows, and living in the Mojave Desert and you have some serious nastiness going on. Yep. So, I thought you might be interested in some cleaning tips. Not that I am an expert by any means. These are just some tips I have gleaned over the years. I have broken it down into daily chores to keep you from being overwhelmed.<br />
Sunday: This is your day of rest. Don't do anything.<br />
Monday: Dust everything. Even your children. Go outside and spray your window screens to eliminate dust (make sure you close the windows first. Trust me here.) Use a broom to remove any cob webs. Always start at the top and go down. Sweep. Vacuum. Mop. Wax. OK, on second thought, maybe this is more like a couple of hours worth of chores... But I refuse to change the title of this post because who would read it after that?<br />
Tuesday: Deep clean Kitchen and bathrooms. Always start with the cleanest part and get to the dirtiest part last. Counters, sinks, toilets. Sanitize the counters, use disinfectant on all door knobs and telephones and keyboards. Wash all towels and dish rags. If you have a dishwasher, keep your scrubbers and sponges in there and when they go through the cycle they will be clean for the next day, plus you don't have to look at them.<br />
Wednesday: Wash your children. This shouldn't be too bad because you dusted them on Monday. If the weather permits, have them wash the car and then hose them and the car off all at once. They will think it is great fun. Wash your pets. Spay and neuter pets as needed. Shampoo your carpets.Wash the upholstery. Power wash the outside of your home.<br />
Thursday: Organize your pantry. Always put your most recent purchases at the back of the cupboard and the oldest at the front so your food does not expire. Refinish the cupboards or paint them. make sure you strip them properly first.<br />
Friday: Tend your garden, weed it, start new seedlings, harvest, and can. Bake bread from scratch using your homegrown wheat. Paint the interior of your home. Paint adds a freshness that nothing else can compare to.<br />
Saturday: Begin a patchwork quilt using scraps from the clothes you sew by hand. Maintain your Windmill and solar panels. Finish your patchwork quilt. Slaughter the hog and use it for tonight's dinner with a smoke pit. Make your own BBQ sauce and can what you will not use tonight.<br />
Everyday but Sunday (We went over this already, remember?) wash dishes, do a load of laundry, put things away, make your bed upon rising, and plan tomorrows meals.<br />
There you have it folks. Easy enough. Simply stick to this plan, and in a couple of weeks, after diligently following it, your home will be in tip-top-Martha-worthy-shape. Feel free to share this with others. I know it will be of great help.<br />
Till next time,<br />
More-Mary-than-Martha-an-occasional-dust-bunny-never-hurt-anybody,<br />
Miss Jodi<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-12881663700079867712014-07-02T21:28:00.001-07:002014-07-02T21:28:30.280-07:00I'm still here<br />
Hey y'all. I am alive and well, just super busy. Not the back of the hand to the forehead dramatic flourish type of busy, but legitimately busy. In the past two months, we almost lost our daughter to asthma, she was hospitalized and has recovered, (thank you God!!!) said daughter graduated from High school (thank you God!) and all that is involved with that took place, said daughter was in a play, relatives from Texas came for the graduation party, we bought a house, (thank you God!!!) and are in the process of moving during a heat wave (in my opinion) in the California desert, I went with my bestie to Vegas to see the Michael Jackson One Cirque de Soleil show, came back, and have been working, and writing a play. So yeah, like I said. BUSY. But blessed. Thank you God!!!<br />
Miss JodiAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-55484721957950316292014-06-04T16:23:00.001-07:002014-06-04T17:06:51.648-07:00How to be Poh<br />
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Since becoming Face Book friends with college age adults, it has come quite obvious to me, that they do not understand the concept of being Poh. Poh to them is simply a shiny button to wear upon becoming a college student, instead of by living well below your means and out of necessity. I see comments like, "I'm so sick of being broke!" next to pictures of them in their new car. Selfies with a Starbucks drink in hand (Venti no less) accompanying a complaint about the cost of tuition this semester, while a photo of a shoe box with brand new Toms sits next to them. Might I make the most humble of suggestions to those of you who may be guilty of one or more or all of the above atrocities? Being "Poh" means that you walk to your destination or ride the public bus instead of rolling up in a new car. Being "Poh" means flavoring your tap water with a ten cent packet of Kool aid, or a mint leaf plucked from your herb garden. Being "Poh" means you wear a pair of flip flops you purchased with the change you found between the cushions of your thread bare sofa combined with the quarter you found on the floor of the public restroom. You eat peanut butter and saltine crackers or ramen noodles for dinner, NOT steak from the local roadhouse restaurant, not even a burger from Mc Donalds... It means that when you wear a hole in your clothing, you patch it up, NOT go shopping, but if you do, it is at the Salvation Army, NOT the mall with a credit card. You don't text or post selfies, because your phone is on a wall and requires coins. Your pedicure comes from the kitchen scissors and an emery board, not a beauty shop. Your hair gets cut with those same scissors, not by a beautician, and those very same, well used, rusty, and possibly dull scissors, cut coupons to make the most of what you DO have. Can you sense the bitterness in my words? Can you imagine my eyes rolling in disgust? Now I am not going to tell you that I walked 3 miles up hill each direction in the snow to get to school, but I am going to tell you that I have gone through some very difficult times in my life, so I know a thing or two about food stamps and Regan cheese, and having to make do. So if you would like to be offensive, then go ahead and call yourself Poh when you are not, because I see a huge contradiction in what you say and how you live. You do not deserve a new car when you are 18. You are not entitled to a smart phone. You don't require new clothes. And for your information, Poh people usually don't complain about being broke, there is no point to it. If you are, you just are. It exhausts me to see people who are so well off financially, complaining about their perceived lack, when the reality is, they are a group of people who lack gratitude. Count your blessings, spend some time with the poverty stricken people in your community, be a blessing to others, give, and most importantly, thank God for what you have. And for goodness sake, stop your whining.<br />
Until next time,<br />
Miss Jodi<br />
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Thanks Linda Love Atwater for this perfect picture!!!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-54686994868289360052014-06-01T19:07:00.001-07:002014-06-01T19:07:12.637-07:00Aging? Get over it<br />
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I went to Target today. Yes, the modern day equivalent of happy hour. 56 minutes of uninterrupted bliss while looking at luxurious bedding with ridiculous thread count, scented candles and picture frames that don't exactly match, but coordinate just enough to make it look as if you happen to have frames by someone named Nate Berkus laying around that go with everything you own. I purchased a Venti-Light (yeah right, like that makes a difference) Caramel Frappaccino, and casually strolled the isles, my fingers lightly touching the downy soft lap throws (I live in the desert and only have need for a downy soft lap throw approximately 2 days out of an entire year, however this does not stop me from looking and touching them), and imagining myself taking an afternoon nap on a bed made up entirely of Rachel Ashwells Shabby Chic line of "Casual, Vintage-inspired" bedding. I passed through the Summer themed Dollar isle of irresistibly packaged note cards, cheap plastic sand pails, and brightly colored, brittle frisbee's that crack the minute they become airborne. I am not ashamed to admit that I enjoyed every minute of it, I truly did. Hey, I only spent $5. and 72 cents so it's not like I hurt anything, and it's not like I went to Molly's Tavern and put back a 6 pack of tall boys. When I finished my shopping (FYI, 2 bottles of "Iceland-cherry" flavored Gatorade and an extra large bottle of generic Pepto-Bismol for the dog which may or may not have Parvo, and the goat who has diarrhea, CAN YOU BLAME ME FOR WANTING TO ESCAPE REALITY? I mean a vomiting dog AND a goat with the soupy-poopies? Could it possibly get any worse than that?) I left the store and went out to my car, or should I say, where I usually park my car? It was not there. I had parked it in a different spot out of the sheer excitement of being at Target BY MYSELF. Big mistake. I spent the next 20 minutes wandering around aimlessly while furiously clicking the car alarm remote, which of course only works when I am directly in front of the car. By the time I had circled the entire parking lot for the fifth time, the dear shopping cart attendant had mercy on me and casually asked me what color and type my car was. Notice that he didn't ask me if I had forgotten where I had parked? It was glaringly obvious that I had indeed forgotten, and he spared me the humiliation. He then proceeded to find my car for me in less than a minute. (Be careful to entertain strangers, for you may have entertained an angel unaware) I realize that I am no longer a spring chicken. I may not even be a summer chicken...(somewhere between a Fall Chicken and a Winter chicken if you must know)Don't try to kid yourself. I don't care how much wrinkle cream you slather on, or what shade of Lady Clairol you use, if you are not dead, you are aging. Things are going to sag. Your memory won't stay the same. You will forget where you parked the car. It's gonna happen. Soon after this humiliating experience , the thought occurred to me that I could share with you some tips that have helped me during my "Moments," and maybe, just maybe I could keep them from happening to you. I am going to do my best to remember them for you:<br />
1) When you are going to the store, always park in the same area. ALWAYS. If you happen to have a horrible sense of direction, and have a cell phone with a decent camera on it, you could even take a series of pictures as you go into the store and look at them when you are returning.<br />
2) Designate an area next to your front door for your keys. Use a pretty basket or a dish. As soon as you unlock your door, put the keys where they belong.<br />
3) Keep a pad of paper and a pencil next to your bed, by the phone, and next to the spot where you watch TV, and even next to the throne, and write everything as you think of it. Don't try to trust your memory.<br />
4) Metamucil is your friend.<br />
And lastly:<br />
5) When your goat has diarrhea, give it Pepto-Bismal. It helps. (OK, maybe this has nothing to do with aging, but it is most certainly helpful information.<br />
So there you go folks, from my brain to yours,<br />
Miss Jodi<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-48589950782889705042014-06-01T18:48:00.002-07:002014-06-01T18:48:45.161-07:00Starbucks Junkie<br />
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I can guarantee that Starbucks will deny this, but I have a sneaking suspicion that they put a smidgen of crack in their Frappacinnos. In all honesty, they should just change the name to Crack-achinnos. It all starts out innocently. First, you see your friends sipping on that green straw and you think to your self, "Self, those people are fools too spend a five spot on a cup of coffee. I can brew an entire pot for twenty nine cents. I would NEVER, spend that kind of money on coffee." Then, your friend invites you to Starbucks for a visit over a cup of coffee, and you smugly think to yourself that you will go and order the cheapest cup they have. After all, it can't hurt anything right? Then you go, and you buy your little cup of plain house coffee with your name written in black sharpie on the side, and you sit there smugly as your friend chugs down their frappacinno faster than a college kid at a frat party. You judge. Go ahead, admit it. And then the barrista, well trained to identify a first timer, spots you. He offers you a sample of a frappaccino. You accept. After all, it's free. You sip. You close your eyes in delight and the cool, icy, coffee flavored drink runs across your tongue and you swirl it around in your mouth awakened to a pleasure you didn't know existed. After you leave, your mind returns to the taste and texture...ice pureed to a perfectly smooth consistency. Who knew such bliss was just around the corner, or that this could even be done with coffee? So close all this time. Time wasted. The next day, you give in. But you try to justify it by getting the smallest size, the "Regular." The only problem is, no matter how slowly you try to drink it, no matter how hard you focus on enjoying it and making it last, it is gone too soon. And so, a few days later, you go back. This time you order a "Grande." This time it will last. Only, it doesn't. And you are left with an empty cup and a little sip at the bottom of the cup that you can't suck through the straw so it is wasted because you can't stick your tongue that far down the cup (which you know because you actually try). So you go back a few days later and order a Venti. After all, it's only .50 more, and THIS time surely you will find satisfaction! But you don't. You cannot. And now, you are hooked. Now, you find yourself in shame, taking those empty plastic cups with green straws out of the car and throwing them into your neighbors trash can so your spouse doesn't realize the level of your addiction. You get pleasure and humiliation at the same time when the barrista (with a particular twinkle of satisfaction in their eye) calls you by name and begins your drink before you even order. Some days you fantasize about ordering TWO Venti's....or three. Before you know it, you qualify for a Gold card which entices you all the more with an offer of a FREE drink on your birthday and refills on drip coffee, AS IF that were enough. But it never is. You search your mind for reasons to to go. You make up excuses...You have joined the ranks...you my friend, are a Starbucks junkie.<br />
Non so proud Starbucks-Gold-card-member since 2007,<br />
Miss JodiAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-86026359195508736462014-05-29T17:56:00.002-07:002014-05-29T17:56:39.338-07:00well that escalated quickly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-34271152429026354612014-04-30T16:08:00.001-07:002014-04-30T16:08:57.026-07:00think positive<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvSjrPFmbkdVGgoEBOBfnC7pBy-lFCZRjBfQNuAGnlMlodwLzKAXZVE7nUHgHaOjs8KLVF8Ytf9Lh5_IC3ERCjD7vHdXyiZl-H3EJ0TYxU3CcVMt_ZhyphenhyphenWjg6NUgaZ91km_qTbp5h-o7uk/s1600/I+fell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvSjrPFmbkdVGgoEBOBfnC7pBy-lFCZRjBfQNuAGnlMlodwLzKAXZVE7nUHgHaOjs8KLVF8Ytf9Lh5_IC3ERCjD7vHdXyiZl-H3EJ0TYxU3CcVMt_ZhyphenhyphenWjg6NUgaZ91km_qTbp5h-o7uk/s1600/I+fell.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-78075303690279974312014-04-20T14:16:00.000-07:002014-04-20T14:16:06.009-07:00it's not about the bunny...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-63196338835385041792014-03-24T11:23:00.003-07:002014-03-24T11:23:59.737-07:00like a museum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-53316200601676213822014-03-22T20:42:00.000-07:002014-03-23T21:35:06.575-07:00Captain Phillips versus Captain Morgan<br />
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I was hoping it was a trend that would quickly pass. The shakey camera perspective. Or as I like to call it, Puke cam. The filming of video for a movie or a television show with the sole purpose of making it seem move realistic. Let me tell you something, filming with out a tripod for "Realities sake" fools NO one! It does not make us think someone was magically there at the moment Tom Hanks was pretending to be Captain Phillips. It only makes me think you were friends with Captain Morgan at the time you were filming... Guess what folks out there in Cinema land? I don't want realism. If I wanted reality, I wouldn't pay the 16 year old attendant at the Movie theater almost $10. for a ticket so I could eat stale, artificially flavored pop corn, contraband licorice sticks and JuJu Bee's, while sitting in a dark room with a bunch of strangers who may or may not have showered that day. The Oscars would not happen if the general public wanted reality. Give me a film that was well documented with the help of a tripod. There is a reason that movie theaters don't have vomit bags tucked into the chairs. We shouldn't need them...<br />
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Till next time,<br />
Use a tripod foe Goodness sake!<br />
Miss Jodi<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-82449514247297156172014-02-22T12:45:00.000-08:002014-02-22T12:45:05.480-08:00Normal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-6785192509177743622014-02-20T21:23:00.001-08:002014-02-20T21:23:36.528-08:00Throwback Thursday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"The more things change, the more they stay the same."<br />
Just leanin'<br />
Miss JodiAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-80374111464934966272014-02-05T19:18:00.000-08:002014-02-05T19:18:25.699-08:00The spirit of peace and harmony<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Have you ever had the "pleasure" of a neighbor with a dog that barks....ALL THE TIME? The Bible clearly tells us that we are to love our neighbor. But, it doesn't say anything about loving your neighbors dog....It also tells us we need to do all we can to live in peace with those around us. So, in the spirit of harmony, and neighborly love, I would like to share with you some tried and true methods of drugging your neighbors dog. Let me start by saying that I was the owner of a beagle for many years. Beagles are hunters, they need a job. That job is to alert their owner of any and all threats, including, but not limited to: people walking in your neighborhood, people walking anywhere in a 3 mile proximity of your neighborhood, stray dogs, stray cats, stray squirrels, a change in the wind, a neighbor taking out the trash, a leaf falling to the ground, and so forth. Believe me you, I KNOW about barking dogs. We took every possible precaution to keep her calm and quiet. We even went so far as to try a shock collar. It didn't work. NOTHING worked. Until my friend suggested a muzzle. These days they are soft, not like the wire and leather ones from "Lady and the Tramp" days. So, if you have a barking dog, be respectful of your neighbors and buy a muzzle for it (the dog, not the neighbor). If you happen to have a neighbor who has a barking dog, follow these easy directions for a tried and true solution. First, don't bother going to your neighbor to talk to them. Either they know their dog barks and they just don't know what to do, or they don't care. It's kind of like the parents of screaming toddlers in a restaurant, they have developed a tolerance to the noise. It doesn't bother them or they would do something about it. Another reason NOT to talk to your neighbor, is that if you follow my directions, and they come home to find Rover in a very deep slumber, they might remember that conversation you had when you asked them to keep their dog quiet. It would make them HIGHLY suspicious of you. Believe me, you don't want to go there. Especially if you have gangstas for neighbors. Now, go to the drug store and buy some Melatonin at least 10 mg and some Benadryl. If the neighbors dog is a very large breed, such as a Great Dane or a Saint Bernard, look through your medicine cabinet for some old Tylenol 3 or other narcotic that you may have lying around from surgery or that root canal you had (I have heard that both Melatonin and Benadryl are safe for dogs. I don't know about the narcotics though...). After you have your drugs, get a piece of cheese and cut a slice into it so that you can stick the pills into the slice and then spread some peanut butter over it. Now, take your little doggy treat, and chuck it over your neighbors fence. You really should make sure no one is home first, and that no one can see you doing this. You might even want to go into your backyard and pretend to do some somersaults while you nonchalantly toss the cheese treat over the fence...just to keep from looking suspicious. Go back in the house, pour yourself a glass of iced tea, kick you feet up onto the coffee table, and relax. In approximately 15 to 30 minutes you will enjoy silence. Peace. Calm. The dog in the meantime, will have a nice little nap. It's a win win situation if you ask me. Not that you did.<br />
Till next time,<br />
It's a beautiful-bark-free-day-in-the-neighborhood,<br />
Miss JodiAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-5837082665691763082013-12-26T21:08:00.002-08:002013-12-26T21:08:15.370-08:00Cuts and scrapes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think, I just may be a magnet for interesting people and situations. How else can you explain such strange things happening to me so often? Last week I took my daughter to the Doctor. An ordinary day, doing ordinary things. Right? Well, to start with, at the surprisingly short line to check in, a woman came up behind us with the energy level of an espresso addict. She asked us what was in our cups, and after telling her, she went on and on about how she would like to try them, and told us how she was sensitive to caffeine and for that reason she had iced tea each morning. As she said this she swirled around her drink so we could hear the ice cubes clinking together and hitting the walls of the cup. She was so interested in what we were drinking, that I almost handed her my cup. She was a sweet heart, very kind and very, very chatty and I am thankful to her because her company made the time in line even shorter. After our appointment we waited for the elevator and an adorable elderly lady walked up. She had a golfers cap and a coordinating outfit. She asked us which elevator we were waiting for and we told her we were waiting for the one going down. She happened to be waiting for the same one. So we waited together. It was about that time that I noticed she was holding something bright yellow in a bag. I didn't think much of it until we reached the lower floor and she asked directions to the pharmacy. I told her we were headed there and would be happy to take her there with us. She seemed happy and continued to follow us with her yellow-something-in-hand. When we reached the pharmacy I told her to stand here in this line and that she could go ahead of us. When she got to the drop off counter she placed her bottle of yellow on the counter and asked the technician if he knew what it was. He answered, "Betadine." "How do you know?!!" She angrily asked him. "Well, he answered, "I work in a pharmacy..."She seemed curious, but satisfied with that explanation and asked him, "What is it used for?" He answered, "Wounds." "Rooms?" She asked him. "No, not rooms, WOUNDS." "My WOMB?" She yelled, clearly shocked. "NO! WOUNDS! Cuts and scratches!" He yelled back, at this point nervously. "CUTS and SCRATCHES?" She asked. "Yes, YES! Cuts and scratches!" He yelled back. She left the counter and we approached. The technician was at this point spraying the counter with cleaner and wiping it down. Distractedly, he mentioned that her bag was leaking. We asked him why she had the bag and he said he had no idea and began to run his fingers through his hair. After giving our prescription to be filled, we turned around and looked for her, hoping to sit next to her while we waited but she was gone. Wherever she went, she took off quickly and we never saw her, or her bottle of Betadine again...But at least we know what to put on our cuts and scrapes now.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-6739716287726652652013-12-25T13:27:00.000-08:002013-12-25T13:27:02.314-08:00and this...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719394659782161558.post-28462310326526028332013-12-24T20:53:00.001-08:002013-12-24T20:53:29.615-08:00Merry Christmas<br />
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I was having coffee with my Mama the other day and the subject of love came up. It occurred to me that we spend so much time being disappointed by people because they don't love us the way we love them. All along they have been loving us they way they need to be loved...maybe your sister didn't tell you she loved you, but showed her love with her actions. Maybe your father didn't hug you but he spent hours at work providing for you. Maybe I don't listen, hug, give gifts, fill in the blank when that is what is needed from me. And maybe, just maybe, we all need to recognize that what we need, we give...So this year, don't waste time hoping that someone will love you the way you love them, recognize what they are doing to express their love for you. That's what Christmas is for me, recognizing the sacrifice of others on my behalf. Tonight, I thank God for the sacrifice of Jesus. I hope you share my thoughts. Merry Christmas from my heart to yours. I hope you are surrounded by those you love this Christmas, and if you are not, I hope you savor some sweet memories of them. <br />
Miss JodiAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08381076408567268047noreply@blogger.com0