The Cool Kids

Friday, April 19, 2019

Fly on the Wall April 2019: Shall We Play A Game?

Welcome to the April Fly on the Wall Group Challenge. This month, 5  bloggers and I are describing what it would be like if you were to take a peek inside our homes...


Have a "look" around mine, and then go visit the other blogger's pages. There's always something fun, sentimental, or better yet, embarrassing going on. It's like your house, only we're admitting to the craziness. You have our permission. Buzz on over!

Cast Members this month:
Me (the blogger)
Mark (The Man)
J. (age 14)
S. (grandson, age 4)
Have a wonderful Friday, friends!
-Michele

1st and Goal  Done?

J. begged The Man to take him to see our city's 1st (semi)professional football team. The Salt Lake City Stallions were playing on the University of Utah's football field. The league was called the AAF (Alliance of American Football) The man gave in, the Stallions won and both dad and son had a great time. As the game progressed, I received pictures from the guys. My only comment was, "When is the game going to begin?"

Hardly anyone was there. It was clearer to see why J. was trying to hustle the man to a game. The league, without followers, was bleeding money. J. bought a hat, came home, and raved about the team. Three days later, with the opposite vigor, J. announced that the league did, in fact, go under. Players visiting other cities had to pay for their own ways home. Very sad for all involved. I'm glad, however, that the man and J. had a chance to make a special memory together.


What Bracket are you in?
J. was the last child of ours to get braces. (Photo not here because the 14-year-old isn't ready to show his latest look.) Anyway, after getting the braces on, we take him to a restaurant to celebrate. It took all of 30 minutes for him to break a bracket. He wasn't even eating anything thick or sticky. I call and make the appointment for the next day to get him back to the orthodontist. As I'm giving him the spiel on how braces aren't cheap and how we have to be more careful, I pop the wire on the back of my own teeth. In the end, he's all bracketed up perfectly and I'm here feeling the glue stuck to the back of my upper teeth. The ortho is going to think we chew on tin cans, rocks, and aluminum foil.


Here is a cute pic of J. 13 years before the braces.

Sugary Slam Dunk

Since he's in preschool, our grandson, S. doesn't always have the same school schedule as his big brother. So sometimes, he gets to hang out with the coolest kids in town, his grandparents. The man and S. have made it a tradition to stop for donuts before we head  home. I always go with them because, and I'm serious, watching those two walk hand-in-hand makes my heart swell. Know this though. S. loves to go with Grandpa to Dunkin Donuts, but his real love is right in those boxes. Just look at his face. That's grandma's boy.



Finally, a Word game.

I've started writing again (obvi). I find myself  searching for "appropriate" words that describe various situations. Often, the word just doesn't convey what I want to write/say.  I've decided that this crazy English language of ours could use some new words. Let me show you what I mean by using the ridiculous word,  FLARATHOSOUS. (pronounce it however you like, it's not real).

*You go to apply deodorant and as you do, the last of the stick falls out and onto the ground. This is usually the day after you've gone shopping and have picked up everything you've ever needed, except for deodorant. What's the name for the scraping feeling you get while rubbing the empty container on your soft, underarm skin? It's more than scraping or scratching. It's heavier than disappointment but lighter than disgust. I need to know. Share, people. (noun/verb?)
"Dang it, Debbie. Do you have an antiperspirant with you? I FLARATHOSOUS-ed mine this morning!"

*By the way, maybe it's the same word that describes applying chapstick and your lips hit that middle pole-thingy that keeps the balm from, I don't know...smooshing? (noun?)
"Man, is my lip bleeding? I put my chapstick on and hit the FLARATHOSOUS!"

*You absolutely need to talk with someone about something important. They call you and you run around like a maniac trying to locate your phone before the last ring. You miss the call. There HAS to be a word for that. Right? (verb?)
"SueAnn, that's my boss! Help! I've been FLARATHOSOUS-ing him every day this week!"

* You receive a set of ballpoint pens in a box big enough to put a teenager in. Thanks, Amazon. (noun)
"I'll show them a FLARATHOSOUS! Where's that refrigerator box? I have a spool of thread I need to return."

Hey, it was a slow month.
Happy Friday, Friends.
-Michele

Buzz on over to these homes:

                  Baking in a Tornado
             Never Ever Give Up Hope
                    Spatulas on Parade
               The Crazy Mama Llama
             Bookworm in the Kitchen    

Friday, April 12, 2019

Use Your Words: April 2019 Shuffleboard?


Today’s post is a writing challenge created by Karen @ Baking in A TornadoThis is how it works: 11 participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words for someone else to turn into a post. All words must be used at least once and all posts will be different as each writer has received their own set of words. No one joining knows who received their words or in what direction the writer will take them. Until now. That’s the challenge!  

My words are:
coffee ~ egg salad ~ hump ~ pansy ~ formation
They were submitted by the very sweet Jules@ The Bergham Chronicles 

Pattern Stories #6
 
Photo property of Advance Pattern Co. of Canada, LTD


Some Tuesday in April 1960

Betty, practicing and editing today's speech: 

Hi Ladies! Thanks to each of you for arriving on time to this week's Bridge Luncheon! (as if Lauren is EVER on time.) I'd like to personally thank Sarah for serving the coffee, and Judy, for bringing the delicious egg-salad sandwiches. The small petite triangles you cut them into are perfect for keeping our waistlines, ahem "in-line. (wait for laughter

 Now, you may have noticed that Charlotte and I are not dressed appropriately for today's lunch. (note judging glances) Instead, we've worn a sample outfit for Friday's first annual Shuffleboard tournament! (wait for excited applause) I understand that it will be hard for some of us to get over the hump of not wearing our usual dresses. We are Debutantes, after all! (smile at nervous-nodders) But ladies! I promise you will not lose your femininity! Just look at the gorgeous colors of these pedal pushers! I've made mine in cerulean and Char is wearing that beautiful spring pansy-red color! After Bridge, I'll pass around sewing patterns of the very pants we're wearing.  Surely you'll have a pair of your own whipped up by Friday! (offer help to the less-skilled seamstresses, perhaps bartering for child tending! Also, remind the women it's not yard work they're tending to. This is the opportunity to show off their jewelry!)  *Use your pearls and new white cuff bracelet as examples!

Phyllis brought copies of the 'Rules and Etiquette of Shuffleboard' to pass out today. Be sure to look over the pamphlets before the tournament and get with your assigned team sometime this week to practice. We'd like to arrive Friday in correct dress, correct formation, and with the rules-of-play securely under our belts. (reassure and repeat to any nervous-Nellys.)

Enough of that, Charlotte and I will quickly change and then, it's time for Bridge! (more applause)
***(Make Charlotte promise that this is the LAST speech I have to give...at least until beach volleyball.) 

Happy "Wear-Whatever-You-Feel-Like" aka, "Wear-Whatever-is-Clean" Day, friends :)
-Michele


Check out the other cool kids playing:
 On The Border      
 Climaxed  
 Stacy Sews and Schools  

Friday, March 22, 2019

Fly on the wall: March 2019

Welcome to the March Fly on the Wall Group Challenge. This month, 7  bloggers and I are describing what it would be like if you were to take a peek inside our homes...


Have a "look" around mine, and then go visit the other blogger's pages. There's always something fun, sentimental, or better yet, embarrassing going on. It's like your house, only we're admitting to the craziness. You have our permission. Buzz on over!

Dream Big, Kid
J., (our 14-year old)  told me that local bank was sponsoring a "Career Day" at his school. In the a.m.,  each child would be given a portfolio based on their current grades and behavior. With certain requirements of a job and bills, the point was to see how to balance finances. (Awesome skill, right?) He'd seen other students go through the program before, earning hi-rise jobs and buying fancy cars. With his 4.00GPA, he thought he'd be in the big league. 

J. :(Looking Glum after school) "I should have stayed home."
Me: "Wasn't the career fair today? Weren't you going to have an "unreal" time?"
J: "It was UNREAL all right. They made me a teacher! A college teacher, but still."
Me: "You're the second person today to make fun of MY career choice, J."
J.: "It's not just that, mom. I have great grades and they made me have a wife who doesn't have a job!"
The Man: (Watching me jump from my chair) "Maybe she's living off of an incredible inheritance. Maybe she put in her work years early, or maybe she's raising the kids."
J.: "That's the other thing. I have two kids! Other students get to drive fancy cars to their jobs. I have to drive a sedan. What's a sedan?". (The same kind of car your parents drove for years with three kids!)
The man and I are laughing now.
J.: "I had to choose the middle-level grocery plan and health insurance. I didn't even say I wanted kids and I didn't know you HAD to have a health plan."
The man to me after J. left. : "Wow, he learned finance, sex-ed, and disappointment in one day. Public schools are teaching the important stuff."

I'm old.
Alexandra (my eldest), has always had her own bank account and credit/debit card but realized she recently needed to order some checks. You know, the paper things we used to pay bills with. A few texts of hers from our conversation made me laugh:

A.: "I just got my first box of checks! I've never felt more adult in my life. I keep looking at them and I'm just like, 'This is it. This is the peak of adulthood greatness.'"
A: " I mean, I can pay for school pictures and lunches without envelopes full of pocket change!"
A.: "Let me get this straight. You paid credit card bills with checks?".
A.: "What happened if you lost a check?"
Me: What if I lost a check? This comes from the girl who auto-pays for everything and takes pictures to deposit their checks? Trust that you have more faith in the system than me. Now, show me how to online deposit like that."

Matte is the new black.
I thought it would be a fabulous idea to paint every one of my interior house doors black. It would be a big project so I could break it up into pieces. No big deal. I buy this creamy automotive paint because I know someone who tried it on their doors and loved it. Good enough for me. One weekend I paint 7 of the thirteen doors. I hoped I could do more, but the paint and my energy ran out. 2 weeks later I start on the rest of my doors with the second can of paint I just bought. Not only did I paint the remaining doors, I decided to do touch-ups on every other door. I was a bit upset because the newly painted doors weren't drying the same way the others had. It took my big brain another hour to realize that the paint was shiny, not wet. I had painted the second set of doors (as well as touched up the others) in a gloss, not a matte like the first can. Now I have 13 black doors. Some are shiny and the rest look like someone wiped chicken grease all over them with their greasy-arsed hands. Help me.

Grandbabies!
When little A. (age 5) was introduced to us, he was a non-verbal child. In the past year, his words have added up, but in the most meaningful ways. I love that he uses his words as he needs them. Nothing extra, just important enough to get his point across.  I was making marshmallow men with the boys and S. (age 4) was getting frustrated because his candy eyes wouldn't stick. A. took his marshmallow, got really close to S. and said, "grab it like dis," (he pinched out a piece of Marshmallow) "and push em in like diiiiiiis." (he gritted his teeth and pushed the candy really hard into the Marshmallow man's face) 
S. looked at his brother like he was freaking Mr. Wizard and the making of the Marshmallow Men commenced and were eaten.
Learning the letter M with Marshmallows.

Perfect.


Finally, Karma.
Remember the adorable story I told last week regarding the man and his queasiness for needles? Well, to make up for that, here's a pic from Monday. I was having a procedure done and the (very kind) nurse couldn't find a vein in my arm(s) for sedation. She tried my hand a few times before saying out loud, "Your skin is really tough." I tell you she said that exact sentence because it was the last thing I remember her saying before I passed out. Instead of the man laughing, he joined the nurse in waking my green self up.
I once said I'd never talk about my health. So much for that, eh? Honestly, I think at this age, I just need to see more people in backless gowns.  Let's face it. I owed this ridiculous photo to the man.

Happy Friday, friends!
-Michele
Please check out this month's participants:

             Baking in a Tornado
             Never Ever Give Up Hope
             Menopausal Mother
             Spatulas on Parade
             The Crazy Mama Llama 
             Go Mama O.


Friday, March 15, 2019

Use Your Words March 2019 Ouch!


Today’s post is a writing challenge created by Karen @ Baking in A TornadoThis is how it works: 10 participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge! Oh, and no one participating knows who received their words or in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words are:
peanut butter, stool, shoes, polyester, donuts

They were submitted by the lovely Rena @https://theblogging911.com/blog

Among the plethora of auto-immune issues I've been blessed with, about 3 years ago, my doctors added "Ulcerative Colitis" to the pile. Since my teenage years, I'd always had "belly problems," but I thought every worried-kid who was trying to get through life was dealing with the same issues.  I've taken many prescription meds since then. I've also tried over-the-counter meds, gluten-free diets, dairy-free diets, no food diets, cleanses, crying on cold bathroom floors; everything I could think 0f, but nothing helped.

After lots of blood tests and a colonoscopy, my medical team decided it was time to try Humira. If you've turned on the radio or television in the last few years for even 30 minutes, you know what Humira is. It started out as a Crohn's, UC, and Psoriasis treatment. Now apparently, it treats everything but splinters. (kind of joking). Despite the MANY side effects of the drug, I figured I had nothing to lose besides severe belly problems. You thought I was going to use the word "stool"somewhere in here, didn't you? Nope. TMI. 

The main problem of this medicine for me? Humira is an injection. Needles and I have never gotten along well, so I was pretty terrified. Another downside? The starter pack begins with FOUR (!) injections to, wait for it: the belly.

Here is the story of how the man and I dealt with that first dose. 



First dose: 4 injections. Seven days later: 2 injections. One injection every week after.

*

Day One (What observers saw)
(People looking out from the hospital window, probably.)

Person 1: "OMG! Look at that poor man lying on the ground!"

Person 2: "Why is that woman not helping him?"

Person 3: " Why is that woman KICKING him?"

Person 4: "If I didn't have this IV, I'd call 911!"

Person 3:    "I'll do it!"
*

An hour earlier on the ride to the doctor.
Me: "Thanks for taking me to this. How can I be scared to death AND starving at the same time? I hope this spoonful of peanut butter will be enough.  I don't want to have a full stomach until it's over."

The Man: "No worries, you're going to be great. When it's done, I'll take you for donuts."

Me: "Haha! What am I, three years old? If I'm well behaved, I get a treat?"

The man: "Well, we don't have to..."

Me: "Shush. I want donuts."

*
In the office, I lift my polyester shirt and get ready for the pain. The very calm doctor rolls over close to me on her stool.
The Doctor: "Sit back and get comfortable. Take your shoes off if you'd like. You're going to be fine. It burns like a bee-sting, but just for a bit. I'll do three and you'll try the last one." (I got scared and messed it up, so the doctor decided to do the last one with the man. She wanted him to see how it's done, in case I couldn't stab myself.) "Your husband sure is supportive!"

Me: "He really is. But, I have to tell you- he doesn't love needles. I don't like them because I bleed all over or somebody can't find a vein. When he sees needles, he tends to get dizzy and faint.

The Doctor: "How do you know that?"

Me: "This isn't our first rodeo, Doc."(This wasn't even the first time I said, 'This isn't our first rodeo.' to a doctor.)

The Doctor: "Aw, maybe he just doesn't like seeing you get hurt".

Me: "Yeah, maybe..."

The man ends up learning how to do the injection and carefully stabs me. (my words.)

*
Leaving the office, the man grabs his keys and proudly declares he's fine.
The man: "How are you doing?"

Me: "I'm kind of sore but I think I was more nervous than I was in pain. How are you? Listen, I really appreciate you driving me home. I don't know how I would have done this without..."

Me: (after a thud) "OMG! Are you kidding me? I can't bend over!!"
*

Me, trying to roll the man so I can grab his keys. I'm pushing him over with my leg because I can not bend over due to the (not sure if I have mentioned this,)  FOUR SHOTS to MY BELLY!

*

Finally, ME driving the sweet man home, still semi-happy that he went with me. Happier still, that I didn't get arrested for domestic abuse. Happiest because, despite any pain, I'm ALWAYS capable of getting my own donuts.
The man: "You're going to eat those donuts without me, aren't you?"

Me: "I bet your stomach is pretty sore, so yes. Yes, I am."

*
We figure I've had at least 160 of these babies. Ridiculously grateful for health insurance.

Happy "Hug-Your-Biggest-Cheerleader" day, friends.

-Michele

Go visit the other cool kids participating in this month's Use Your Words Challenge:
 On The Border      
 Climaxed   


Friday, February 15, 2019

Fly On The Wall, February 2019: Say My Name


Welcome to the February Fly on the Wall Group Challenge. This month, 5 brave bloggers and I are describing what it would be like if you were to take a peek inside our homes...



Have a "look" around mine, and then go visit the other blogger's pages. There's always something fun, sentimental, or better yet, embarrassing going on. It's like your house, only we're admitting to the craziness. You have our permission. Buzz on over!

***

Since I've missed oh, 36 months of this challenge I wanted to think a bit more broadly. During my absence, A fly on the wall would have heard me get called a lot of names around my house (I'll leave that up to your imagination.)  I thought I'd share a few of my favorites:

World's Best Mom: You think I'm kidding, right?  I really do get called this by my children! I mean, it's only when they need something, but still...

Any of my children: "Would you mind babysitting/ paying for my project/ buying me a new jersey/ making me a costume/ providing this last minute ride, treats, school supplies, organ donation...etc?" 
If I say no, I might get called a different name, but I digress. If I say yes, I get a "Thanks!" and get called, "World's Best Mom". 
My response: "Well, if I am, where is my trophy?"  
It's usually followed by a chuckle. Or a "Sure mom, whatever. But you're still doing that thing for me, right?"
One day last year the UPS driver delivered this. I'm keeping it forever. (as proof). I only cried for three days months straight after receiving it. Now, if I can only figure out a way to stick it on a "Hello My Name is..." tag. I'd wear it everywhere. BTW, When I thanked the child who sent it? They told me to call them, "My favorite child".  Nothing is free, people.
I'm supposed to keep this by my front door and show EVERYBODY, right?

***
Dork: Ugh. I hate that word. I always have. Knowing this, my best friend decided all on her own that "Dork" would be my name. I affectionately call her "Loser," so I guess it all evens out. We often drop off things for each other in our mailboxes: Borrowed books, jewelry, treats or ransom notes. They're always labeled, "Dork" or "Loser."  One day  I get a mailbox emoji on my phone, and I know what that means; Loser has left me something. I finish what I'm doing and run out to open the mailbox. All that's inside is a mailer with coupons. When I call "Loser" up to ask what she meant by the emoji, she tells me she left a plate of my favorite Amish cookies for me with a note: "Hey Dork, don't eat these all at once. Love Ya!"  Yep. The mailman beat me (very legally, I know.) to the mailbox. He took the cookies. And now I know two things. (besides the fact that I missed out on cookies) My mailman thinks I think he's a dork, and apparently, I now love him! Awesome.

***
Gramma Shel: Yes, dear friends, I'm a Grandma! Last May, Alex and Micah (my daughter and her husband) adopted two perfect (my correct opinion) boys.  "A." is six and "S." is four. Did I mention they're perfect? If I taught in Elementary Education for all of those years only to collect counting bears and a million books, it was worth it just to entertain and play with these babies. Mark and I are in love with them and the best part? We can give "A." and "S." anything they want and still send them home at the end of the day.
The man and I have it made. "A." likes technology, and "S." likes reading...novels?

***
Michael: How hard is it to pronounce my name? I've mentioned this before. My name is Michele. Only one "l". Yet telemarketers and door-to-door salesmen still ask for "Michael". 
"Is Mark or Michael there?" they ask. 
"No, they're out on a lovely walk right now," I say.
"Who am I speaking to?" they continue.
"This is Michele."
"OK," they say. "Could you have Mark or Michael call/get back to us when they get home?"
"Sure thing, Jellybean." No complaints from me.

***
My first wife: My regular readers know this is what the man calls me. OK, truth be told, the exact words he uses aren't printable. But you get the gist. I get an idea about home improvement, he says we should call a professional. I say we will have fun doing it ourselves and he asks, "Who's WE?" 


Wife #2 is going to like everything just the way I made it, right?


Whatever name you go by, Have a Happy Friday, Friends!
-Michele
Please check out this month's participants:



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